


Naive Melody

by liquidmeasure



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Babysitting, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexuality, Grey-A, Hill Rolling, Kid Fic, M/M, Sunglasses Inside, Top Gun Cosplay, post-zayn studies, referenced boners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidmeasure/pseuds/liquidmeasure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The clock on the side table says it’s just after midnight when he wakes up to Theo screaming and crying for his mother. Just after midnight, so a good three and a half hours of sleep and that’s that. It’s like the kid has finally caught on that all is not well. That his parents have really and truly gone.<br/>He keeps crying when Niall picks him up out of his cot and it seems he doesn’t stop for three days."</p><p>Post-Zayn canon fic. Zayn steps in to help Niall deal with Theo. Niall isn't sure how to deal with Zayn. </p><p>This is sort of a mish-mash of a couple of my prompts, including canon pining and single dad Niall with optional accidental baby acquisition. I couldn't figure out how to give Niall a baby without something terribly sad happening, so I opted for an extended babysitting gig. I hope it works! <3</p><p>If you'd like to have the book Zayn and Niall read to Theo read to YOU, you should mosey on over <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0m_rp24GsSE">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Naive Melody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunshinexbomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/gifts).



    He gets up at 10, which isn’t early but it’s not so late either. That feels like an accomplishment. Breakfast is a banana and an Actimel—it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Maura, but she’s not here and she doesn’t often call on Wednesday morning, so it’s fine. Everything is copacetic.

    It’s weird, being home. It’s comfortable and the house is filled with his things—carefully curated, tidy, everything in its place—but it doesn’t quite feel natural yet. It doesn’t feel settled. The house doesn’t feel lived-in because he’s never had time to properly live in it.

    Maybe that’s coming soon, but that thought is equal parts comforting and terrifying so he tries not to dwell on it for too long. He’s trying not to think of a lot of things these days—there is so much that is so tenuous—but he does understand that someday the machine will roll to a stop, abruptly or otherwise, and he’ll come home to this house and he won’t leave it again. He’ll unpack and that’ll be that so it’s got to start feeling like his someday soon. Really his. He’s got to make it that. He doesn’t want to end up like Harry, like someone who’s not really got his own space; someone who just drifts in and out of other people’s lives.

    A few minutes of digging through his wardrobe and he's settled on some version of the same outfit he’s been wearing for a couple of weeks now. It feels right and simple and like a known quantity. Plain. Uncomplicated. He needs that when he’s this unsettled; when things feel a little sideways.

    He reaches for a denim jacket and then stops. Eyes something to the right, drab and green and familiar in a not-entirely-comforting way. In a way that moves something in his middle. Makes his fingers twitch.

    He tugs the jacket off of the hanger and pulls it on, trying not to notice the way it smells: like coming home to an empty house.

 

* * *

 

     “Niall, you up for it?”

    “Huh?” Niall looks up from the mixing board. He’s drifted off somewhere while Liam and Louis have been talking. Something about tonight, the Libertine. Drinks. Niall shakes his head.

    “Nah, mate. Meeting Greg and Denise back at home, like.”

    Louis smiles and does some kind of weird finger gun gesture at him.

    “Oh yeah! You’re playing uncle Niall this week! I’d nearly forgotten!”

    Liam spins around in his chair, a little Casio keyboard resting in his lap. He’s smiling happily.

    “Bring the little one by, Ni.” He taps out a melody. “We want to poke at him before we’re off. Let him lay down a few tracks.”

    Niall laughs.

    “That’ll be perfect. He’s a real babbler.”

    “Runs in the family, huh?”

    Niall chucks a drumstick at Louis’ head, narrowly missing the complicated halo of his hair.

 

* * *

 

     Louis pulls him aside on the way out of the studio that night, tugging Niall over towards his car.

     “Come over here a minute. I’ve got something I want to give you.”

    Niall obliges and watches as Louis rummages in his boot. He comes back with a holdall and hands it to Niall, looking furtive and a little sheepish. Niall takes the bag and holds it in front of him, studying it, testing its weight. It’s heavy, but not unwieldy. Feels full of clothes and other random objects.

    “Uh...thank you?” He frowns over at Louis. “What is it? Should I open it?”

    Louis looks down at his feet, then over at the brick wall at the rear of the studio. Anywhere but at Niall.

    “Nah it’s just...it’s some of Zayn’s shit. I thought—“

    Niall grimaces.

    “Oh. I don’t—I mean, I haven’t seen him either.”

    Louis shrugs. He’s still not looking Niall in the eye. It’s unnerving. He focuses on something just to Niall’s left.

    “You’ll see him before I do. Anyway, you’ve got stuff to get back to him too, right?”

    His eyes fall on the sleeve of Niall’s jacket. Zayn’s jacket--or not. The jacket Zayn nicked from Caroline’s rack last year. Not Zayn’s jacket, but yeah. Zayn’s jacket.

    Niall feels self-conscious suddenly. He’s not sure what he was thinking, wearing it. Of course Louis would notice; would wonder what it meant. Maybe Niall wanted that a little, wanted to poke at something, to test the edge of whatever Louis has been on about the past few weeks. It’s not like he’ll talk about it. Louis doesn’t use his words until he’s pushed too far and Niall isn’t a pusher. He’s never been that person.

    “Yeah, whatever. I’ll take it.”

    “Thanks, bro.”

 

* * *

 

    There’s a bird that lives inside of Niall’s ribs, that occupies his middle. He knows it and understands it. Kind of. Just enough. It’s something he checks in with, like a touchstone. When he used to visit a therapist, back in the beginning when he was having trouble with the crowds and the travel and the confined spaces, she would ask him the same questions over and over.

    “Where do you feel it, when it gets this way? Where does it live?”

_Here_ , he would say, but like a question. It was hard at first to pin it down. _Here?_ A hand to his solar plexus. A finger to his brow.

    His anxiety is alive inside of him like beating wings. He remembers how it felt when they got the call, like something was flapping and scratching and clawing in his middle fighting to get out, and him just sitting there biting at his nails, breathing the way he’d been told to ( _in...then out_ ) and wondering if he was going to be sick.

    It’s been worse lately. Worse than normal. So he tries to breathe and tries to distract himself and tries not to be alone without a purpose. Without something to throw himself into.

 

* * *

 

    “The biscuits in the smaller bag are his favorite. I’ve brought some bottles with milk, frozen. You can just thaw them in the fridge and warm them as needed. Do the wrist thing I showed you, right? Not too hot.”

    Niall nods. Theo squirms in his arms, babbling happily. He’s saying something that sounds like “ _juice_ ”.

    “Is he thirsty? Is he asking for juice?”

    Denise laughs. She pulls an assortment of items out of a carrier bag and puts them in away in the kitchen. Packets of dehydrated fruit, biscuits and jars of pureed food. She shakes her head.

    Greg points at a pair of battered Vans sitting by the end of the sofa.

    “Shoes. He likes shoes.”

    Niall makes a “huh” noise and walks Theo over to the shoes, crouching down. He sets Theo on the floor and the kid busies himself messing with one of the trainers: tugging at the laces and pulling the tongue out of the way to explore the insides. Greg watches the two of them, shaking his head in a resigned sort of way.

    “We spend all this money on toys, you know? Like Baby Einstein stuff that’s supposed to enrich his mind. Puzzles and all that rubbish.” Theo is trying to put the shoe on his head like a hat. Greg sighs. “He’d rather play with a loafer and a cardboard box.”

    Niall smiles and picks up the other shoe. He sets it on his own head, which seems to please Theo.

    “That’s because he’s resourceful and frugal.” Theo smiles up at him. He seems to like that word so Niall says it again. “ _Frooogal_. Right Theo? It runs in the family.”

    “Are you sure you’ll be alright with him? Is Willie not about?” Denise sounds nervous, like she’s not sure this is a good idea. Niall feels defensive. He wants to reassure her; he wants them both to have some faith.

    “It’ll be grand. Willie’s had to go back home for a bit but I’ll manage just fine. How hard can it be?”

    Greg and Denise exchange a look.

    “Just...” her voice is wary. Uncertain. “You know your ma would be happy to come for the week. Just promise me you’ll call if he gets to be too much. We’ll have Maura fly over. I’m sure she would love—“

    Niall pokes at Theo’s tummy, making him giggle.

    “I’m sure she WOULD love to have you all to herself. But we won’t be needing Nana, will we Theo?”

    “Nana!” Theo parrots. Then he points at Niall. “Dido!” Niall makes a face. 

    “Eh...close enough.”

 

* * *

 

    The house feels big and strange and silent once they leave. Even Theo is quiet in Niall’s arms, waving goodbye to his parents and clinging to the collar of Niall’s shirt. They walk around for a while just exploring the space. He lets Theo touch the row of awards on the shelf, lets him tap at the keyboard of the sleeping computer. They play with the TV remote and channel surf until Theo hits some strange combination of buttons and activates French subtitles. Niall isn’t sure how to get them to go away so he turns the TV off for the time being, taking the remote out of Theo’s hands. He’ll ask Willie to fix it when he’s back. Theo doesn’t want to give the remote up when Niall tries to take it away and there’s a tense moment where he looks like he’s about to cry if he doesn’t get what he wants so Niall opens up the back of the remote and tugs the batteries out, feeling very clever. He’s not so bad at this gig. He can handle a toddler, no sweat.

    It’s past Theo’s bedtime now, and Niall’s meant to put him down so he runs through the mental checklist Denise drilled into him before they left. Check the nappies (dry), change into jammies (Niall opts for the ones with a pattern of brightly colored planets and stars), and then take him into the bathroom to help him brush his little teeth. Theo’s got most of them now like a real person--bright and very white and tiny and fragile. Niall carries him to the guest bedroom where they’ve set up Theo’s cot. He arranges the blankets and activates the spinning night light on the bedside table, bounces Theo gently in his arms until he feels his little head go heavy, and then sets him gently in the cot.

    Theo looks exhausted, like he’ll be out cold in a few minutes. Denise planned it that way, keeping him awake and skipping his usual nap time, making sure he was engaged all day. Tuckering him out in anticipation of the switch-over.

    “It’ll be easier this way,” she said, “just try to keep him awake until bedtime and hopefully he’ll sleep through the night for you. Set a good precedent and all that.” She seemed worried. Apprehensive.

    Niall watches Theo in the cot, squirming and adjusting and blinking heavily. He fusses a little and Niall holds his hand, rubs one thumb across the inside of his tiny wrist. The night light plays a soft melody.

    “Not so bad, are you?” Theo yawns and smacks his mouth, turns his head to one side. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

    He presses one hand to the top of Theo’s head, smoothing his hair. It’s the softest thing Niall has ever touched—wispy and barely there—and then he leans down and gives his forehead a light kiss. Breathes in. Theo smells sweet and pleasant like sugar and something earthy, like grass or peat. Something green. Something from back home.

    Niall shuts the door halfway and walks over to his own room. He undresses and climbs into bed and then he lies there, thinking of Theo just across the hall. It’s nice, knowing he’s there. Listening for the noises he makes in his sleep. Staying vigilant. It’s nice to have a purpose, someone who needs him. He closes his eyes and rolls onto his side, thinking of the bag sitting in his hallway. He’ll have to let Zayn know it’s there. Figure out how to get it to him. But that’s for later. He feels exhausted and he doesn’t want to think. He shuts his eyes tight and listens to the mechanical lullaby from the next room. Lets it sing him to sleep.

___

 

    The clock on the side table says it’s just after midnight when he wakes up to Theo screaming and crying for his mother. Just after midnight, so a good three and a half hours of sleep and that’s that. It’s like the kid has finally caught on that all is not well. That his parents have really and truly gone.

    He keeps crying when Niall picks him up out of his cot and it seems he doesn’t stop for three days.

 

* * *

 

    “I could come down, you know. I’ve got nothing planned—“

    Niall cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, digging through the fridge. It’s a mess. When did he let it get so disorganized?

    “Ma, no. Everything’s grand, alright?”

    “I can hear him grizzlin'.”

    “He’s a baby. They do that.”

    “Is he eating? He likes those little biscuits, you know?”

    “I know. I’ve got it.”

    “Make sure that’s not all he’s eating though.” Niall rolls his eyes, then feels guilty. “You shouldn’t be alone. It’s too much responsibility, Niall.”

    He locates a bottle of milk and pulls it out, shutting the refrigerator door and letting his forehead fall against it. He reaches up and grabs the phone with his free hand then turns, pressing the bottle to his lips like a finger, looking over at Theo squalling in the high chair.

_Shhhhh..._

    “I’m an adult. I think I can handle it.”

    “I know you’re—“ She sounds exasperated. “I know. It’s just not a simple thing—“

    “I don’t have a job right now. I need something to do. Just....let me do this. Please?”

    It’s quiet on the line for a moment.

    “Fine.”

    “Thank you."

    “But I’m here if you need me. I could even come out and stay in a hotel, just to be close.” Niall sighs. He doesn’t want to lose patience with his mother.

    “That’s alright, ma. Ok? I promise I’ll let you know if I need a hand.”

    “Alright.” There’s a pause, like she’s considering. When she speaks again her voice is gentle. Too gentle. “You know I’m here just to talk, too, right?”

    When he answers, his voice sounds artificially clipped and chipper. Interview voice. Harry calls it the peacemaker voice.

    “I know mum. Thanks. Love you.”

    “I love you, Niall—“

    He hangs up and sets about warming the milk on the hob. Theo is still cry-yelling in his chair, flailing his arms blindly. Niall thinks he should offer something. Something more than milk. He says Theo’s name softly and catches his eye, and Theo takes a ragged breath and watches him for a moment. Niall pulls a face, trying to lighten the mood. Theo’s breath hitches. He looks confused, his face red and blotchy, and then he squeezes his eyes shut, opens his mouth wide, and cries out, continuing his tantrum where he left off. Niall feels defeated. He feels exhausted, restless and anxious like a caged animal. He hasn’t left the house in days.

    He opens up the text he’d been working on when Maura called.

_Got some of your stuff here if you want to pick it up_

    He deletes the last few words. Types.

_You want me to have it sent over?_

    Deletes.

_Got some of your stuff here..._

    He positions his thumb over the send button. Hovers. Theo breathes fitfully, his voice ragged. Niall taps a button and sets the phone to his ear, watching Theo’s face and swirling the bottle around in the pot of water slowly. It rings four times. Five. Niall feels panic rising in his throat. What is he even doing? He never calls Zayn.

    “Hey. Is everything ok?”

    Niall’s hand slips and the bottle falls into the water, the rubber teat sliding under the surface. He grabs at it and pulls it back out, his hand smarting from the heat.

    “Fuck!” It sounds like a hiss. 

    “What? Niall, what’s going on?”

    “Sorry. Jesus. I’ve burnt my hand.”

    “Are you hurt?” He sounds sleepy, like he’s just woken up, but concerned. Niall’s heart is racing a bit from the hot water and the shock of hearing Zayn’s voice. What was he thinking?

    “No! No, sorry. I was just...I’ve just got some of your stuff here? In a bag? And like...I wanted to let you know.”

    He pulls the bottle out of the water and tests the temperature on his wrist the way Denise showed him. He tries not to think about how pathetic this all sounds. How transparent. _I have some of your things. Just wanted to hear your voice. Please talk to me, I miss you._ Theo cries out again.

    Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment. Niall is about to open his mouth, fill the empty space between them, but Zayn speaks.

    “Is that a _baby_?”

    Niall hands the bottle to Theo, who takes it from him greedily, shoving the teat in his mouth. There are tears on his cheeks, shiny and wet. Snot coming out of his nose. Niall just watches him.

    “Yeah, I’ve got Theo for a bit.”

    “You’ve _got_ Theo? Like you’re looking after him?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Where’s your brother gone?”

    “He and Denise are out of the country.”

    “What about your mum, she couldn’t’ve—?”

    “I offered.”

    Zayn is quiet. Niall watches Theo. He seems content for now, like the bottle was just the thing. Niall feels vindicated. It’s not so bad, maybe, all the handwringing and moaning from his mother was an overreaction. He’s got this. He turns to the hob and starts tidying up.

    “You offered?”

    “I’m on a break.”

    “Yeah I—“ He sounds clipped—offended or something—then it’s like he catches himself and his voice gets softer. “I know. I just—”

    Niall hears a wet thud and then Theo is screaming again. He sets the pot back on the hob and turns. Theo has thrown the bottle and it’s come apart all over the kitchen floor. Niall must’ve done a rubbish job of tightening it shut. Theo resumes his meltdown, crying for something more vague and inaccessible than milk or a cuddle. Crying for his mum. Crying because he’s uncomfortable. Crying because he’s tired. Crying because this place is strange and Niall isn’t enough and he can’t sleep and he feels abandoned. Just crying.

    Niall hurries over and scoops Theo up in one arm, bouncing him. He makes the _shhshhshh_ noise that Denise showed him. Theo cries.

    “Is he ok?”

    Niall pats ineffectually at Theo’s back, trying to calm him.

    “He’s just...he just cries. I don’t know.”

    “Is he dry? Did you check his nappy?”

    “Of course I did,” Niall snaps. He reaches over and tugs at Theo’s waistband, peeking inside. Everything looks fine in there.

    “Is he hungry?”

    Niall bounces over to the worktop and grabs a tea towel. He tosses it at the mess on the floor and moves it around with his foot. It’s...a severely inadequate effort. He feels his heart beat quicken. A fluttering in his middle. He’s not had a chance to clean anything up in days. Theo won’t settle.

    “I’ve just been feeding him. He threw his bottle on the floor. I don’t know what he needs.”

    “Is it just you there? You’ve not got any help?”

    “No...yes! But it’s fine! He’s just...he’s just one baby. It’s _Theo_. He’s like an angel usually. He’s just adjusting or something.”

    Theo screams and lashes out, knocking Niall on the ear with his fist.

    “He’s an angel for an hour at a time, when his _mum_ is there. You need help, mate.”

    “It’s fine. People take care of children all the time with no help. I can do this. I’m ok.”

    Zayn sighs.

    “Suit yourself. How much stuff have you got there?”

    “What?” Niall isn’t sure what he means, then he remembers. Why he called Zayn. Why they’re on the phone right now. Jesus. He’s losing it.

    “It’s just like...a kit bag. Just a few things Louis—“ He stops. Maybe that’s not the thing to do, bringing up Louis. It’s not like anything has been said, per se. It’s just the way Louis’ been acting. The way his mouth goes hard when they mention Zayn. How they’ve all just sort of...stopped. Stopped talking about it. “Just a few things.”

    “Yeah alright.”

    “I can have someone send it—”

    “I’ll come round in an hour or so, alright?”

    Niall stops. Time stops. Even Theo stops crying for a moment.

    “Oh.” He adjusts the phone on his ear. It feels uncomfortably warm. “Uh...yeah alright.” “I’ll see you then.”

    “Yeah.”

    “Feel his cheeks. See if he’s hot. It might be a tooth.”

    “Ok. I don’t know what that—”

    But Zayn’s hung up. 

 

* * *

 

     He spends the next hour in motion, making a futile attempt at tidying up. He sets Theo down on the floor of the living room with a wooden spoon and runs back to the kitchen to mop up his mess, tossing the bottle and teat in the sink and wiping the floor down. He’s about to rinse the tea towel and hang it to dry when he sees a pile of papers on the coffee table and feels a tug of shame. He can’t let Zayn see his house like this. He hurries over and pushes the stack around; picks it up and walks it over to the computer desk. There’s a pair of Theo’s socks on the floor. He drops the stack of papers on the keyboard, retrieves the socks, and walks them back to the bedroom, but Theo’s crying again so he just drops them on the floor next to the bed and hurries back to the living room. He picks Theo up, shushing him, and walks to the bathroom. It’s a bit of a disaster area--the mirror is covered in splatters and Theo’s bath toys are spread out on the floor. Niall kicks at them with one foot while bouncing Theo on his hip, then realizes he’s not peed in hours so he sets about doing that. It’s a complicated operation, holding a toddler in one arm and getting himself sorted out, and he’s just grappling with the button on his fly when the buzzer sounds.

    “Fuck.” He winces. “Sorry, Theo. Sorry. Language.”

    He hurries to the front room and checks the security camera. Zayn’s there at the front door. He’s wearing a faded jumper and black jeans and battered trainers. He’s running his hand over his head, like he's pushing something out of the way but there's nothing there. It seems unconscious, like something leftover from years of wrestling with a complicated quiff.

    Niall heads for the front hall. Theo is still crying, but he’s not giving it his all. He’s sort of phoning it in, honestly, but it’s just enough to put Niall on edge. He opens the door.

    Zayn is leaning against the wall in the entry, his hands shoved in his pockets. He smiles tightly and stands up when he sees Niall.

    “Hey.”

    Niall nods and swings the door wide, letting Zayn pass. When he gets inside, Zayn turns and pulls Niall into an awkward sideways hug. It feels cautious and unobtrusive, like he’s not certain it’s alright. Niall’s not certain it’s alright either.

    When they part, Zayn says something quietly, and it sounds like “ _may I?_ ” and then he’s moving away with Theo in his arms. He walks past the kitchen and into the living room, murmuring something quietly in Theo’s ear. Niall follows him. Watches Zayn settle on the couch. He’s bouncing Theo, asking him questions and keeping him occupied, and Niall isn’t certain what he’s meant to do. The bag is just sitting there at the end of the hall, conspicuous and loaded, and Theo seems happier now. More engaged. It’s having a new person about, maybe. Someone to poke and prod and explore. A new set of boundaries to test.

_Good luck with that_ , Niall thinks.

    He walks over and stands by the coffee table, watching them.

    “The bag’s just there at the end of the hall. I’m not certain what all’s in there.”

    Zayn makes an “mmm” noise and looks up. He gives Niall a once over and grimaces. “When was the last time you showered?”

    Niall feels himself go red.

    “Dunno...I just...I wasn’t expecting company and—“

    “Mate, you’re going to seed.” He lets Theo hang onto his thumbs and bounces him on and off his lap. Theo is laughing, delighted by the rising and falling. “Look, I can sit with him for a bit if you want to make yourself human again.”

    Niall feels tense. Rigid. He’s meant to do this on his own. It’s meant to be his responsibility and he doesn’t want Zayn, of all people, to see what a wreck he’s become. But it’s no use, really. He’s not showered in days and his need to feel clean and get his environment sorted is stronger than his irrational pride. He nods.

    “Yeah alright. I’ll make it quick, ok? Don’t want to keep you.”

    “Not a problem, bro. Just do what you need to do.”

 

* * *

 

    He cleans the kitchen first, wiping down the hob and excavating bits of fruit and biscuit from the dark corners. Then he tosses a load of bedding in the wash and picks up Theo’s toys. He starts to sort the papers on the desk then settles for shoving them in a drawer. Zayn and Theo sit on the floor and play with a pile of coloured bricks. Theo is handing them to Zayn one by one in a deliberate, business-like sort of way and Zayn is thanking him earnestly. He’s good at it, at the playing part. He talks to Theo like a friend. Like someone he respects. Theo seems to respond to it: he’s fully engaged, staring up at Zayn with wide eyes and an open mouth.

    Niall goes into the bedroom and gathers a load of dirty clothes off the floor. When he comes out, Zayn is laughing and pressing his hand to his heart.

    “Zayn. Zaaaaayyyyn.”

    Theo is giggling hysterically.

    “DAY!”

    “ZAYN.”

    “DAAAAAAY!”

    Niall pauses to watch them for a moment.

    “He’s not so great with the enunciation.”

    Zayn shrugs and laughs.

    “It’s cool. I’m Day.” He turns and looks up at Niall. “Who are you?”

    Niall isn’t sure what he means for a moment.

    “I’m Dido.”

    “Cute.”

    “It’s alright.”

    Zayn beckons him over.

    “Look at this, though.”

    He gestures to the pile of bricks on the carpet next to them. They’re sorted by colour, the reds with the red and blues with the blues. Niall nods approvingly. He’s not sure what he’s meant to be approving of, it’s just sort of automatic.

    “Nice work.”

    Zayn laughs.

    “It wasn’t me,” He rubs Theo’s head with one hand. “This one did it.”

    Niall raises his eyebrows. _Can babies do that_?

    “Is that a thing? That seems like...advanced.”

    Zayn shrugs.

    “Nah, he’s at about that age. It’s cool, right? He’s just like...learning. Figuring the world out.”

    “Yeah.”

    He stands there for a moment longer looking at the neatly-sorted bricks. Niall can appreciate the urge. The need to parse things out. To make sense of your world. He starts the wash and heads for the bathroom.

____ 

    He takes a proper shower. A really long, hot, indulgent shower like Harry would take. He leans his head on the tiles and the water falls over his neck and down his back and he tries to relax. Breathes in. Breathes out. It feels a little surreal having Zayn here. Familiar and strange all at once.

    Zayn fits into Niall’s life like there’s a space for him. It makes sense having him close, but Zayn’s only been over to Niall’s a handful of times...and now—

    He presses his eyes shut tight and tilts his head back, letting the water run over his face. He breathes out slowly, through pursed lips.

    It’s weird. It’s weird being so close to someone. So close they’re like a part of you--like two overlapping circles in a Venn diagram--but having your relationship so rigidly defined. Contracted. Constructed and scheduled and held together so intentionally. The band was like the skeleton of their friendship. The bones. Or the scaffolding that kept them together. Or the cage they shared. Niall isn’t sure how to be near Zayn without that. Removed from that context, their connection is difficult to grasp; it’s vague and amorphous and it can’t be pinned down. It makes Niall anxious. But underneath all that uncertainty—at the heart of it—there’s a warmth. He can feel Zayn in the next room, can hear his voice as he speaks with Theo, and it’s unspooling something inside of him. Something that’s become wound up tight. He can feel himself softening.

    Or maybe it’s just the shower. He really _really_ needed a shower.

 

* * *

 

    When he’s finished, he pads over to the bedroom and pulls on some clothes. He can’t decide at first what he should wear. Sweats would be practical. Something comfortable and simple. But Zayn’s here and Niall wants to look more put together, like a person who’s not been cooped up in a house with a small child for days. It’s not like he’d be fooling anyone. It’s just...something that matters. The way Zayn sees him. The way he’s perceived. If he can exercise some tiny bit of control over that it’ll make him feel better. About everything.

    He pulls on a pair of jeans and a striped tee shirt and calls it good.

    When he comes out to the living room, Theo is fussing again. Zayn is walking him around the house, pointing things out to him and talking non-stop, trying to distract him.

    “He’s a little hot. I’m wondering if it’s not a tooth after all.”

    Niall frowns and walks to the kitchen. “I figured he was done with all that. He’s got a full set, yeah?”

    He fills a glass with water and rejoins them in the living room. Zayn reaches for Niall’s hand and presses it against Theo’s cheek, holding it there.

    “Hot, right?”

    Niall swallows, the glass resting against his lips. Zayn’s hand is cold on his. His skin is still warm from the shower, but Theo’s cheek is warmer. He nods.

    “Yeah.”

    Zayn lets Niall’s hand drop, then reaches out and takes the glass of water. He drinks and offers the glass to Theo, who stops fussing long enough to take a small sip. Niall frowns. He tries not to think about everything Theo’s put in his mouth today. Shoes. Biscuits off the floor. His own foot...and then he feels like an arse. He takes the glass back and drinks.

    “Is there anything we can do for him? Is it one of the big ones in the back then?”

    “Yeah I think so.” Zayn bounces Theo on his hip and looks thoughtful. “Dunno. Baby painkillers? Did they leave anything like that?”

    Niall nearly chokes on his water.

    “ _Painkillers_? You want to drug him?”

    Zayn looks defensive.

    “I don’t want to knock him out, Niall. Just take the swelling down a bit.”

    Niall looks at Theo. He does look red. Irritated. Like he’s in pain. Niall remembers how it felt having the braces on. Having them tightened. That particular throbbing ache. Zayn’s probably right.

    “I’ll go check his bag. There might be something in there.”

    “Good.” Zayn wrinkles his nose and tugs at the waist of Theo’s pants, peering down the back of them. “Grab a fresh nappy while you’re at it, yeah?”

    As it happens, there’s a bottle of liquid paracetamol tucked into Theo’s bag and some sort of teething ring filled with water that’s meant to go in the freezer. He’s not sure it’ll reach all the way back to Theo’s impending molars, but he pulls it out anyway, then rings Denise up and gives her a quick update. She sounds apologetic when he tells her that Theo might be having tooth trouble.

    “I’d hoped the big ones would wait until we arrived back. Just give him a few drops in some juice, it should settle him. He must be a proper handful right now.”

    Niall spins the teething ring on one finger and walks to the kitchen.

    “Nah. It's no trouble. We’re doing just fine over here. He’s fussin and a little hot, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

    “We? Did Maura come down?” She sounds a little too relieved. “Thank goodness”

    Niall shakes his head, then realizes she can’t see him.

    “No! I just...” He glances over to the living room where Zayn’s lying on the floor, propped against the couch, holding Theo and making shhhh noises in his ear as he cries. “I’ve got a friend here helping out. Just for the day.”

    “Oh.” She sounds unsure. “Well that’s good. Just...let me know if he doesn’t stop fussing and I’ll ring Maura up. It really would be no trouble for her you know.”

    “I know. I’m good.”

    “Alright, babe. Thank you again. You’re a gem, you know?”

    “Go 'way outta that. I told you, it's fine. Say hi to Greg for me, yeah?”

    He fishes a bottle of juice out of the fridge, fills a sippy cup, then brings it and the medicine to the living room. Zayn shifts Theo in his arms and motions to the coffee table.

    “Just put it there, I’ll do it. You sit. You look knackered.”

    He’s right, Niall is exhausted. He takes Theo from Zayn and sits on the couch while Zayn droppers some medicine into the cup, then hands Theo back and lets Zayn hold him. He won’t take the juice at first, he’s too busy crying and flailing his arms, but Zayn is patient and steady and gets him drinking eventually. He rocks back and forth softly and smiles over at Niall.

    " _Go'_ _way outta that_." He laughs.

    "Shut up."

    "What does that even _mean_? You're like an alien."

    Niall just shakes his head. He sinks into the couch, lets himself relax.

    “Brooklyn had a couple that were bad." Zayn's voice is quiet. "Caz said she read that if we had to do it now, like if we had new teeth come in, we wouldn’t be able to bear it. The pain of it, I mean. Babies are just like...”

    Niall understands what he means. Babies are resilient. They’re tough. It’s the growing up that makes you soft.

    Everything is quiet then save for the sucking sound of Theo taking the juice. It’s rhythmic and weirdly soothing and Niall leans his head back on the couch. Closes his eyes. He just wants to enjoy this for a moment. The peace and quiet.

 

* * *

 

    He wakes up to a hand on his face. Fingers tracing his cheekbone.

    “Niall?”

    “Hmmm?”

    He doesn’t remember where he is. The bus? A hotel? Has he fallen asleep backstage? He opens his eyes and everything’s a blur and then everything’s resolved and he’s in his living room, sitting upright on his couch. Zayn is crouched down in front of him, touching his face.

    “Wake up, babe, I’ve gotta go.”

    He looks so young. And so old. It’s weird. Niall studies Zayn’s face for a moment, the plane of his forehead and the angle of his cheekbones. There’s a little cowlick near his temple, clearly visible now that his hair’s nearly all gone. It’s a perfect swirl. A tiny galaxy. Niall is confused. Why is Zayn here? Where has his hair gone? Then Niall remembers.

    He sits up, embarrassed. Like he’s been caught at something. Like he’s left his door ajar and let someone peek inside. But it’s Zayn. Hasn’t he already let Zayn in?

    “How long have I been asleep?”

    Zayn drops his hand and sits up on the coffee table.

    “About half an hour.”

    “Where’s Theo?”

    “I got his nappy changed and then he fell asleep too. You were both due for a kip I think.” He’s getting up now, grabbing his jumper off a chair and pulling it on. Niall stands up and follows him toward the door.

    “Thank you...for helping out. You didn’t have to.”

    He’s not sure what else to say. He wonders if this changes things; if they’ve broken some sort of seal now and can be normal again. He wonders what normal means anymore. Zayn smiles and waves a hand around dismissively as he lets himself out.

    “Yeah, I did. It’s not a problem. I like him. I like kids.”

    “Yeah, I remember.”

    “You should try to get some more sleep while he’s down. I’ll see you around, ok?”

    Niall just nods. That’s enough, maybe. _See you around_. It’s enough and not even close to enough. It means nothing and it means everything. A vague promise of a future. Zayn waves once more and jogs down the walk and out of sight.

    Niall shuts the door and presses his forehead against it. Closes his eyes. When he opens them again and turns to walk inside, he nearly trips over the bag of Zayn’s stuff that’s still lying there at the end of the hall.

    “Fuck.” 

 

* * *

 

_You’ve forgotten your bag..._

    It’s a bit like The Twilight Zone...or that movie with Bill Murray and the prairie dog or whatever. Like he’s living something over again.

_I’ll have it sent round if you want._

    He deletes the last part. Leaves his thumb hovering over the send button.

    “Do you not think it’s too like...britpop ’92?”

    “What d’you mean? What even is too britpop? You’re the one who’s blabbing to everyone about Oasis.”

    Liam spins in his chair. The keyboard on his lap is playing a tinny syncopated beat.

    “Yeah...It’s just. I dunno. It sounds like Blur or something. I like it, you know? I just...don’t...know.”

    He lets the chair spin until he’s facing Niall, then drops his feet. Niall looks up from his phone. He’s distracted, not all there. What are they talking about? Does Liam want an opinion?

    “Blur’s good. I like Blur.”

    He keeps looking at his phone. At the unsent text.

    “If that’s the way we’re going, I’m good, Leemo. Britpop ’92 all the way.” Louis sounds artificially chipper. Like all the uncertainty in the room is sharpening his edges.

    “Is it? Is that the way we’re going? We just...we can’t keep doing the same thing, lads. It’s got to be something new or else it’ll be too obvious where we would’ve put—”

    “WOOOHOO!” Louis does his best Damon Albarn impression and laughs maniacally. It’s obvious what he’s doing, but Liam doesn’t say anything and Niall stays mum too. Because it’s fine. Whatever Louis thinks he needs is fine. Louis stops laughing and rolls his head to one side, frowning over at Niall.

    “What are you doing in there, anyway, Nialler? Get your head out of your phone and in the game. This is our last chance to get any work done before Liam and I are off.”

   Niall just stares pointedly at Louis. Louis, who is lying on the floor with his knees folded up over his chest playing airplane with Theo who’s screaming and laughing and being generally terribly disruptive.

    “You’re one to talk, bro.”

    “I’m _multitasking_. Anyway, you’re the one who brought an adorable toddler to work with you. Someone’s got to entertain him.”

    He rolls upright, setting Theo back on his feet, and Theo immediately demands more.

    “Go AGEHD!”

    Louis laughs and pokes him in the stomach, getting him giggling again.

    “Not if you ask like that, you little monster.”

    Louis swivels Theo around and tugs him back into his lap, hugging him securely.

    “He’s very sweet. You’re very lucky.”

    Niall guffaws.

    “He’s very sweet for _you_. He’s been making my life a nightmare for the past three days, I swear.”

    Louis laughs and hugs Theo tightly.

    “Is that true, lad? Have you been terrorizing your uncle? How very dare you.”

    Niall just watches them for a bit, rocking back and forth together. Theo seems happy. Calm. It’s like Louis has some sort of magic touch. It shouldn’t be a shock, really, he’s had so much practice with little ones, he’s like a professional at this point. He’s pressing his mouth to the top of Theo’s head now, rubbing his nose over the wispy hairs there--smelling him, Niall expects. People seem to love that part. The smelling. Louis looks up at Niall then and his eyes are a little lidded like he’s on baby drugs. Like huffing Theo’s head has gotten him high. Or he actually is high. Niall can’t keep up with Louis these days. Can’t seem to figure out where his head’s at.

    “I could come round if you’d like. Push my flight back. Give a hand.”

    Niall waves him off, looking back at his phone.

    “No...no I’m alright.”

    “Are you sure? If he’s being fussy—“

    “Nah. No I’m good. Thanks.”

    Louis looks almost serious for a moment.

    “You need help, Niall.”

    “I’ve got help.” He looks over at the control board. At the floor. He wants Louis to drop it. “I mean, I’ve got it taken care of.” 

    “Huh.”

    Niall doesn’t like the sound of his voice. There’s a pause.

    “Who’s helping, then, your mum?”

    “No, no...” He tries to look busy, like he’s doing something very important with his phone. He hits send with an air of demonstrative finality and feels something lurch in his gut. He’d like Louis to stop talking now, but when he risks a glance he sees that Louis has his shark face on. Like he’s sensed that there’s something to poke at. Something to pry out of Niall.

    “Is it that Aussie girl then? Are you playing house?”

    Niall shakes his head vigorously.

    “No! No. Just...it’s just a friend. I had a friend come by and give me a hand. It’s nobody ok?”

    Louis narrows his eyes.

    “A friend? Laura?”

    “No.”

    “Rochelle?”

    “No!”

    “BRESSIE?”

    “NO, not Bressie. Christ. Would you stop? It doesn’t matter.”

    Louis looks hurt. It makes Niall want to kick him, but he’s holding Theo like a human shield.

    “Well you don’t have to be a dick about it, Neil. I was just curious.”

    Niall rolls his eyes.

    “Aw, fuck you, mat—“

    Louis covers Theo’s ears, aghast.

    “LANGUAGE, Niall.”

 

* * *

 

    Theo won’t go to bed. Niall thinks it must be the excitement of the day or the nap he took in the car on the way home from the studio. Maybe he’s just absorbed all of Louis’ restless energy. Maybe he’ll never sleep again.

    When he hears the buzzer, Niall is pacing back and forth in the living room, bouncing Theo on his hip and shushing him, trying to lull him to sleep. They bounce their way over to the door and open it for Zayn.

    “Shouldn’t he be sleeping by now?”

    Niall rolls his eyes.

    “Yes. Thank you. He should be. I’ll get right on that.”

    Zayn laughs softly. He slips out of his jacket, tosses it on the couch and holds out his arms.

    “Is it alright if I hold you for a bit, Theo?”

____ 

 

    “I’m sorry, Niall. He’s just...he’s a handful, you know?”

    “It’s no bother, honestly. I just wondered if there’s any tricks. Like something you lot do when he won’t bed down.”

    “Ha...well. Honestly we’re terrible. Half the time if he’s too fussy to sleep, we’ll put him in bed with us, you know?”

    “Oh.” Niall looks over at Zayn. He’s in the kitchen with Theo, letting him point at items in the press and calling out their names in turn. _Teacup_ , _Nutella_ , _Weetabix_. Niall wonders when he’s going to leave. If he’s going to stay here until Theo sleeps.

    “You don’t have to do that. He’ll settle eventually, he just gets excited sometimes. He’ll wear himself out.”

    “No...I mean. I’m happy to lie with him.”

    “There’s a book in the small bag that he likes sometimes. It’s the one with the frog and the dog. And the sure thing is putting him in the middle of us and sort of sandwiching him in, you know? But obviously I can’t ask you to—“

    “Nah, this is good. I’ll figure it out.”

    “You’re sure? I’m really sorry Niall.”

    “Don’t apologize, we’re fine over here. Have a good time, ok?”

    He hangs up and sets about digging through Theo’s bags. He finds the book shoved into a zipped side pocket and brings it out to the kitchen. Zayn turns and raises his eyebrows.

    “Is that our magic bullet?”

    Niall shrugs.

    “Maybe. Something like. She said they like...they put him in bed between them and read him this.” He starts feeling weird halfway through the sentence. He doesn’t want Zayn to think he’s asking him to—

    “Alright. Cool.” Zayn takes the book from him and heads for the hallway, past the bag of stuff. Toward the bedroom. Niall follows him, biting his lip.

    “You don’t need to stay. I can—“

    “Nah it’s good. I’m good. He’s got to sleep, right?”

    He steps on the heels of his shoes, maneuvering out of them while he holds Theo in his arms. Niall follows him into the bedroom and watches him sit on the bed. Niall’s bed. Zayn sets the book on the side table and pauses. Looks around like he’s just registering where he’s ended up.

    “This is your room?”

    Niall nods.

    “Yeah.”

    “Huh. I’ve never been in here before.” 

_Yeah, I know._

    Zayn sets Theo down in the middle of the bed. Theo crawls up to the pillows. Buries his face in them and sticks his bum up in the air, giggling. Zayn swings his legs up and lies back. He watches Theo and laughs.

    “At least he’s happy this time, you know? Awake, but happy.”

    Niall is hovering in the doorway. He should go to the bed. He should...move. He should do something.

    “Come on, then.” Zayn gestures to the other side of the bed. “Let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”

    Niall sits. He tugs at his shoes and drops them on the floor. Puts his legs up and arranges himself at Theo’s side. It seems to calm Theo almost immediately, like he knows the drill. He rolls onto his back and smiles expectantly.

    “Let’s weed a book.” Theo says it like he’s reciting a line; like he’s reading from a script Zayn and Niall haven’t got access to.

    “Ha.” Zayn seems very charmed. “Yeah, bub. We’re gonna read a book.” He picks the book up and opens it over them, holding it so Niall can see. “Alright. _City Dog and Country Frog_.”

    “Fog.”

    “Yeah. Dog and frog. We ready?”

    Niall raises one arm up and tucks it under his head.

    “Yeah.”

    Zayn clears his throat.

    “ _City Dog didn’t stop on that first day in the country. He ran as far and as fast as he could_.”

    He turns the page and Theo points up into the air.

    “DOG is _WUNNING_!”

    Zayn nods solemnly.

    “That’s right. He’s running. _And all without a leash..._ ”

    Niall shuts his eyes and listens to Zayn’s voice. It’s soft and rolling and smooth. Sleepy. It feels familiar, being this close; lying together. Niall remembers the way it was on their first tour. The tiny bunks. The way they would cling to each other after a show, like they might lose themselves in the current and float away. The sound of Zayn’s voice. His nervous laugh in the dark.

    “ _City Dog saw something he had never seen, sitting on a rock (it was Country Frog.)_ I think that’s you, Niall.”

    “Hmm?” He shakes his head. “Nah. Harry’s the frog.”

    “No, it’s you.” He clears his throat again gently. “‘ _What are you doing?’ asked City Dog. ‘Waiting for a friend,’ replied Country Frog with a smile._ ”

    “Waiding fowa fwen.”

    “ _‘But you’ll do.’_ ”

    Theo must know the book by heart because he keeps repeating words and phrases like Zayn’s story time hypeman. He’s calm, but he’s not sleeping. About halfway through, Zayn’s voice gets even slower and he angles the book over toward Niall.

    “Your verse, Ni.”

    Niall yawns and takes the book, picking up where Zayn’s left off. The dog leaves, the dog comes back. They play games the frog likes, and games the dog likes. It’s cute. Friend stuff. Niall hears Theo’s breathing go soft and even. Zayn is quiet, his hand resting on Theo’s tiny chest.

    “ _‘What shall we play today,’ asked City Dog, ‘dog or frog games?’_ ”

  
    “Fog gem.” His voice is soft like a whisper. It’s working, then, they’ve done it.

  
    “Uh huh...” Niall keeps his voice low and even. “ _’Country Frog took a deep breath. ‘I am a_ _tired frog,’ replied Country Frog, ‘Maybe we can play remembering games._ ’”

    There’s a noise like a soft whimper and Niall looks over.

    “ _That was Fall._ ”

    Theo’s head has rolled to the side and is resting against Zayn’s chest. He’s breathing fitfully, like he’s having a dream about frogs and dogs and running and jumping. Niall feels triumphant. He’s finally gotten something right.

    “Zayn, we did it.”

    Zayn doesn’t answer.

    “Zayn? Are you asleep?”

    Zayn stirs and his eyes drift open, just a crack.

    “Wazzuh?”

    Niall shushes him.

    “He’s fallen asleep, we’ve done it.”

    Zayn nods and closes his eyes again.

    “Cool.”

    It’s like a sigh, breathy and quiet. Niall waits. He’s not sure what to say or do or what comes next.

    “You can go now...I’ve got it from here.”

    Zayn doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t move.

    “Is it alright if I stay?”

    There are a thousand things Niall wants to ask. Things he wants to sort. But he's tired, too. And he doesn't want to wake Theo. And it's nice, having Zayn here. It feels rare or fragile, like something he shouldn’t poke too hard at or disturb. Anyway all this...it’s nothing new. They’ve slept in the same bed before. Loads. The only difference now is everything.

    “Yeah. Alright.” 

 

* * *

 

    “Do you remember those weird energy bars that Harry used to eat?”

    Niall finishes prepping the fruit and porridge in Theo’s little bowl and sets it in front of him.

    “Yeah, the ones with the funny name?”

    “Naked bars.”

    Niall giggles a little, remembering.

    “God...he used to leave the wrappers all over the bus. He’s such a fucking slob.”

    Zayn laughs and sips at his tea. He looks rumpled, like someone who’s slept in his clothes.

    Niall thinks of the bag in the hallway and he thinks of his wardrobe. He wonders if he should offer Zayn a shower or a fresh shirt, but he’s not sure how long Zayn’s planning to stay. Niall’s not really sure of anything at all.

    “I can’t believe how much time we spent on there sometimes, back then. Before everything got like...bigger.”

    “On the bus?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Like sardines.”

    “I reckon sardines would’ve smelled better.”

    Niall taps absent-mindedly at Theo’s fist to help him guide the food more or less into his mouth. He’s figuring it out: how much he should help and what he should let Theo work out on his own. He’s getting better at this, maybe. Theo takes a few more bites and then transitions smoothly into playing with his food more than eating it, smearing it joyfully around the table. Niall takes the bowl from him and wipes up.

    “You want some breakfast?”

    Zayn seems to consider it, then nods.

    “Eggs?”

    He nods again, says “gonna pick you up,” and moves Theo out of the high chair and into his lap.

    “Do you ever miss it?”

    Niall pulls a carton of eggs and some milk out of the fridge. He’s not sure what Zayn means. He’s not sure what Zayn means a lot of the time, actually. He’s got this way of speaking, like he’s continuing a conversation Niall wasn’t aware they were having.

    “What, the bus?”

    “Yeah. It’s just like...I have trouble sometimes? Sleeping?”

    Niall has to laugh at that. Zayn is the champion of sleep. He should have some sort of Olympic medal.

    “I’m serious. It’s like a _thing_. I can fall asleep anywhere, right? On a couch or the floor of an airport lounge or under a table.”

    “Like that time in Japan. God.”

    “Exactly, right? But it’s like...beds. Are just...”

    “Weird.”

    “Yeah. Just a normal bed.”

    Niall cracks some eggs into a bowl and adds milk, then beats it all together. He knows what Zayn’s saying. He knows the feeling.

    “When we got back from the last tour, before the holiday break, I spent the night in my walk-in.”

    Zayn nods.

    “I sleep in my art room sometimes. On the couch in there? I dunno. It feels more like...transient.”

    Niall chews on that word: _Transient_. It seems right. He looks over at Zayn, but Zayn’s gaze is lowered. He seems to be studying the top of Theo’s head.

    “Sometimes it’s like...I need a person there? Just to exist in the same space. We’ve spent so much time together, the lot of us. It’s like I don’t know how to be alone anymore. Which is...weird. Alone used to be my superpower.”

    Niall nods. There’s a question hanging in the air between them. There’s something about the way Zayn is talking. Niall wants to ask, and he doesn’t want to ask so he focuses on cooking the eggs, then toasting bread, then moving the food onto two plates and then setting the plates on the kitchen island. They eat and they talk about the first tour. Different places they slept. The old bus. Ancient history. It feels safe, this remembering. Like as long as they stay in the past, they’ve not got to talk about now. About the future.

    After breakfast, Zayn watches cartoons with Theo and Niall tidies up the house. At half past 11, Zayn takes his coat off the chair by the door and gives Niall a quick hug.

    “I’ve got a lunch date with my mum,” he explains, tugging his coat on.

    Niall just says “ok” because he’s not sure what else to say. Zayn doesn’t need to explain himself. He doesn’t owe Niall anything.

    Zayn walks to the door and Niall watches him. Waits. Zayn doesn’t touch the bag. He walks right past it. Niall feels like he’s betraying something when he speaks.

    “You’ve forgotten your bag again.”

     Zayn turns. 

    “Nah. I’ll come get it tonight.”

 

* * *

 

    Zayn’s not staying with him. He’s not moved in. He’s just...there. A lot. He arrives in the mornings with baked goods or shows up at the gate in the evenings with a shopping bag full of his sisters’ Disney movies. He’s on the couch with Theo or leaning on the kitchen island watching Niall cook or smoking on the balcony and talking quietly into his phone. Or he’s in Niall’s bed. Reading that terrible book. Snoring gently. And then he’s gone. He’s off to do whatever it is Zayn does these days.

    Niall wants to ask a hundred different things-- _What do you do? Where do you go? Why do you keep coming back here?--_ but he doesn’t. He leaves all of the questions sitting on the tip of his tongue. He’s afraid to use his words: asking leads to answers and answers lead to talking. About now. About this moment in time. That’s not something Niall is prepared to do quite yet so he keeps mum. And Zayn doesn’t offer an explanation. Niall tries to ignore it--the big, glaring strangeness of their situation--he could swear he’s nearly managing.

    It’s easy most of the time, having Zayn around. It’s natural and good the way it’s always been between the two of them. Comfortable. Familiar. They laugh and they joke and they dance around the room trying to get Theo going and they make a good team, really. They’ve always made a good team. It’s nice to have someone around and it’s different with Zayn—it’s not like Willie, who’s more autonomous, who simply exists parallel to Niall and keeps him sane. Zayn is something else entirely.

    Niall feels like part of himself is wrapped up in every one of the boys, like they’re tied to each other, but his attachment to Zayn has always felt like something more. Gravitational, maybe. Magnetic. It was always Zayn’s bunk he would crawl into at night when things got hard or lonely or sad. When he felt his mind spinning like a top and needed to slow himself down. Zayn’s always been the best for that. For grounding Niall. Bringing him back to Earth and cementing him in the present moment.

    Niall thinks he might’ve gone off the deep end by now, alone in the house with Theo. He might’ve cracked. Maybe Zayn’s recognized that. Maybe he’s just trying to help.

 

* * *

 

    “What shall we watch tonight, bub?”

    Theo is sitting in waist-deep water, splashing about in the tub. He stops for a moment and stares at Zayn before offering up a plastic whale. His face is so earnest Niall can’t help but laugh.

    “F'you.”

    Zayn smiles and takes the whale from him. He appraises it in a serious sort of way then sets it on the edge of the tub.

    “Wow. That’s really cool. Thank you.”

    Theo nods and smiles and keeps working, pushing toys around in the water, narrating the action in babyspeak. Zayn pokes at his side.

    “I asked you a question, though. What are we watching? A movie? Power Rangers? Aladdin?”

    Niall scoffs.

    “You’re just listing stuff you like.”

    Zayn shrugs.

    “I like it because it’s good. Right, Theo?”

    “Waddin!”

    Niall smiles tightly. He feels agitated tonight, like he’s been resisting the urge to scratch and worry at a wound that’s meant to be healing over. Like something is going to break soon. He stands up and grabs a flannel off the shelf. Hands it down to Zayn. His voice is casual when he speaks. Light and nonchalant.

    “You’re staying over again, then?”

    Zayn takes the flannel. He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

    “All done, bub. Gonna pick you up now, ok?” He lifts Theo out of the tub and stands him on the mat. He seems very focused on the task at hand, on getting Theo good and dry. He glances up at Niall.

    “I mean...only if that’s alright. I’d like to help.”

    Niall shakes his head quickly.

    “No it’s fine. It’s good. Just wondering. I’m starting to feel like a broken record or something but like...is it ok? You being here so much?”

    “Whoopsy daisy, bub.” Zayn catches Theo as he tilts and falls sideways, half collapsing on the floor in a fit of laughter. Zayn’s voice is quiet, barely above a mumble. “What’ve you done, gotten into the booze?”

    Theo giggles and presses his head into Zayn’s chest. Niall chews at the side of his nail. He’s irritable and Zayn seems...evasive.

    “Haven’t you got like...stuff...to do? Or like—“

    “It’s ok, Niall.” Zayn stands, scooping Theo up in the flannel. He turns and looks straight at Niall for what feels like the first time in ages and something changes in his face. Something shifts. Niall feels much too seen for a moment and drops his gaze. He feels a hand at his wrist.

    “Niall, is everything alright? Is it ok that I’m here? If it’s not ok just...say.”

    Niall doesn’t look up. He feels Zayn’s thumb moving over the inside of his wrist. It’s familiar, something Zayn used to do before smaller shows and TV appearances when Niall would get a little too nervous, felt a little too boxed in. Niall lets him, just for a moment, then he pulls away.

    “Yeah...no. I’m fine. It’s fucking great having you here. Having your help. I’m just tired...and I don’t like the thought that I’m putting you out.”

    Zayn is still looking at him. Niall can’t quite meet his gaze.

    “I’m here because I like being here, ok?”

    Niall nods.

    “And I guess I missed you or something.”

    “Yeah, I—yeah. Same.”

    “And anyway,” Zayn shifts Theo in his arms and moves to the door. “it’s not like I’ve got a job. It’s good to have a purpose. Something to do.” 

____

 

    They watch Aladdin. Theo sits on the floor and multitasks, playing with his bricks and periodically staring, rapt, at the television. Niall and Zayn share the couch with their legs curled up and their feet just touching in the middle. It’s always been that way with them when they’re together--just the barest bit of connection. A tiny point of constant contact. Niall allows himself to relax into it without questioning, to enjoy the moment without letting his mind run off into the indeterminate future.

    After the movie they change Theo's nappy--or rather _Zayn_ changes Theo's nappy while Niall watches. He's a little captivated by it, the way Zayn's hands just sort of know what they're doing. All confidence and no hesitation. 

    "How did you get so good at that?"

    Zayn looks up at Niall and shakes his head in disbelief.

    "Mate _._  We've been absolutely _surrounded_ by babies for four years. Honestly, how did you get so rubbish at it?"

    Niall just shrugs dismissively. It's not like anyone gave him a chance, really. They never asked him to play sitter. That was always Harry. Or Zayn. Or Louis. Niall chews at the side of his nail. Why _did_ no one ever ask him, anyway? He wonders what they see when they look at him. _Distracted. Irresponsible. Hates children._

    They brush their teeth and change into their sleeping clothes and climb into bed. They read the book. Theo settles into the bend of Zayn’s arm and Zayn lets his hand rest on Niall’s pillow, just brushing the top of his head. The dog and the frog play. The dog leaves. The dog returns. The dog leaves. The dog returns. The frog has gone. Theo is drifting off to sleep but Niall feels much too awake. It’s disturbing, the story. It seems cruel and unnecessary.

    “I don’t understand this book,” he whispers. “It’s awful.”

    Zayn finishes the next line and turns his head to check on Theo, then looks at Niall.

    “Why? It’s cute. It’s about friendship.”

    Niall grimaces and shakes his head.

    “It’s not cute, it’s depressing. The frog’s _died_. _Clearly_ the frog has died. How long does a frog even live?”

    Zayn shushes him.

    “It’s supposed to teach them something about impermanence or like...i don’t know...how you should appreciate people while they’re with you. For who they are. Something like that. I think it’s nice.”

    Niall can feel something welling up inside him, an ugly feeling he’s worked so hard to push down and away. He hides his face in his arm and shuts his eyes tightly. His voice sounds terse and clipped when he speaks.

    “Never mind. It’s just rubbish. It’s a terrible thing to teach a child. _Nothing lasts, everyone leaves, now go play with your bricks, Theo_.” He breathes in and it feels ragged. Embarrassing. “The fuck was Greg even thinking? He probably didn’t even read it before he bought it. He’s such an idi—”

    “Niall, shush. Stop. It’s ok.”

    Niall shakes his head against his arm. He feels the bed shift, hears Zayn moving through the room and then kneeling at Niall’s side. Zayn places his hand on Niall’s, holding this small part of him, rubbing light circles into his wrist. Niall doesn’t budge. He doesn’t think. He doesn’t _think_. He just breathes.

    “It’s just a book, babe. He likes the pictures, ok?”

    He puts Niall’s hand back on his own chest and presses himself up, stretches out next to Niall—carefully. Slowly. Like a question. Zayn holds him gently, the way he used to a long time ago when they both needed taking care of. One hand on Niall's heart, like he knows. Like he's pressing down on the movement in Niall's middle, making it still. It’s strange and it’s not strange at all. It’s different and it’s exactly the same, now that they’re grown. Niall softens. Lets his mind slow to match the beat of Zayn’s breathing. For a minute, at least, he just...lets go.

 

* * *

 

     “You should go to this.”

    “Hmm?” Niall looks up from the banana he’s been pulling apart and sees Zayn standing by the fridge, studying a postcard Niall’s stuck there.

    “Laura’s thing. Her birthday. You should go.”

    Niall hands Theo a piece of banana absent-mindedly and watches him eat. Theo takes a bite and says something that sounds like “ _num num_ ”, then offers the rest back to Niall. Niall takes it. Pops it in his mouth. Chews. Considers.

    “Oh my god, Niall.”

    “What?”

    Zayn snatches the banana out of his hand, his face a mask of horror.

    “You’ve got to get out of the house. You’re going all broody.”

    “What? I’m just—”

    “Bro.” Zayn looks him in the eye. “You’ve got to get out of here. I’ll watch him for the night.”

    “I’m fine—“

    “Niall, you are clearly not fine. I’m worried about you. You’re not built for this. You’ve interacted with like two people in the past week and one _regularly_ shits his pants. I’m fine. I’m great. This is like my natural state but you? You’ve just about lost the plot.”

    “I can’t just _leave_ , I said I would watch him. I promised.”

    Zayn hands the rest of the banana to Theo and turns to the sink. He wets a sponge and sets about cleaning up.

    “You’ll be no good to him if you go all _The Shining_ on us. You’ve got to go out and like...recharge your batteries or whatever. Drink a pint. Yell about football. Do what you do. Okay?”

    Niall wants to protest. He wants to argue, but Zayn’s right. Niall’s gone all jittery. Agitated. Like he’s filled with pent-up energy and he can’t find the release valve. It’s not just the being inside. Not just cabin fever. There are a thousand unanswered questions at the back of his throat, threatening to push up and out like a new tooth.

    “You’re right.”

    “I know—“

    “But just...like...” Niall is hesitant. His words have become fragile. Deliberate. “...is Perrie okay with you being here so much?”

    He feels suddenly like he’s navigating a minefield. Like he’s treading dangerous ground. He’s not sure why. It’s a fair question.

    Zayn doesn’t answer for a moment. He keeps at the washing up.

    “Yeah, she’s fine.”

    “It’s just...” Niall should stop talking. He can feel the acidity rising at the back of his throat and he doesn’t want to let it out. He’s got to stop. “You left to spend more time with her, right?” _Fuck._ _Shut up shut up_. “It seems like you might like to...spend more time with her.”

    Zayn stops cleaning. He drops the sponge and turns to look at Niall. He seems tired. A little sad. It makes Niall feel awful, like he’s overstepped. Crossed some invisible line.

    “We split up.”

    It hangs there in the air between them for a little too long. Like something neither of them wants to touch.

    “Oh.” Niall’s head is buzzing. The bird is beating at the walls of its cage and Niall thinks, _this_. This right here is why you don’t ask. This is why you don’t poke and prod because all you get are a thousand more questions. The world spinning off its axis.

    “It’s been that way for a while now.”

    “I’m...sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

    “It’s alright.” Zayn picks a bowl up off the worktop and sets it in the sink. “Get him cleaned up and let’s go out in the garden for a bit.”

 

* * *

 

    He’s not drunk. He knows he’s been acting it all night, yelling and laughing and singing and putting on a show. It’s performative. It’s necessary. Maybe if he moves his arms and his legs and his hands in the right sort of way, it’ll release something, loosen up the parts of him that are wound up so tight he can barely breathe.

_It’s been that way for a while now._

    He can’t stop thinking about it. Keeps hearing Zayn in his head, over and over. So fucking offhand and casual, the way he’s always dropped the heaviest shit. _I’m not coming back_. Like he’s just woken up and remembered it. Like an afterthought.

    Zayn told him to leave; said he needed to get out and see people. Said Niall needs that sort of thing more than Zayn. He’s right. Niall’s been going stir crazy. He can hear something in his voice when he talks to Zayn lately, like the sharp edge of everything he’s not saying, threatening to cut him open from the inside. To expose the ugliest parts of him.

    “Where’s the little one tonight, Uncle Ni?” Laura is grinning, her cheeks flushed and her hair a little mussed. She looks lovely and vibrant and not at all old and Niall feels a tug. Something like love. He reaches out and pulls her into a hug, squeezing her tight.

    “Got a friend minding him for the evening.”

    She pulls back and looks him cheekily in the eye, like she’s trying to get something out of him. Like she’s trying to crack a code. He waggles his eyebrows and then tips his head forward, letting his Raybans fall back onto his face.

    “A _friend_?” She puts a little too much emphasis on the word. Why do people always do that?

    “Yeah.” He shrugs. He smiles. “A friend.” He swings one arm around and jabs her in the side with a finger. She leaps away awkwardly and nearly trips over her own feet, crying out in protest.

    “Happy birthday, Laura!!”

    “Piss off!”

 

____

 

    He’s not drunk, but he lingers in front of his house, leaning against the doorway, just breathing. His body is buzzing from the noise and the contact and the energy of all those people packed into a room, all of them together. He feels his hands shaking and presses them under his arms, folding himself into a hug. He’s close to bursting. Dangerous. Filled with the sensation of beating wings. And something at his throat, threatening to claw its way up and out of him.

 

    When he comes up the stairs, he finds Zayn sleeping in the corner of the couch with Theo sprawled across his front. The stereo is playing quietly in the dark, some midway track off  _Sticky Fingers_. It’s a very Harry thing to be listening to, which catches Niall off guard. He wonders if Zayn misses Harry. If he misses Harry the same way he misses Niall, or the way he misses Liam. He wonders if Zayn misses Louis at all.

    There’s a half eaten biscuit on the coffee table. Niall grimaces. It’s possibly the strangest thing about babies, he’s just decided it. Not the shitting in the pants or the weird babbling or the biting. It’s the way they manage to leave food absolutely everywhere like a disgusting magic trick. He found a piece of dehydrated fruit inside his shoe when he was dressing to go out earlier.

    He collects the mess quietly and takes it to the kitchen, tosses it in the bin and returns to the living room. He stands there for a moment watching the two of them, listening to them breathe. Big and small. Zayn’s breath is long and smooth. Theo’s is small and fitful. Niall reaches out and presses the back of his hand to the side of Zayn’s face. Gently, the way they always used to, when it was time to get him up. They’d never really talked about it or agreed on it in any way, it was just...how it was done.

    The room isn’t dark. Not quite dark. The lamp on the computer desk is lit, and it’s casting an artificial, indirect glow on the couch. Everything seems very hazy and dim and soft, and Zayn opens his eyes slowly. He looks at Niall. He laughs.

    “Why are you in sunnies?”

    Niall reaches up to his face, embarrassed. He pulls the Raybans off and drops them on the table.

    “Because they look cool.”

    Zayn sits up and adjusts Theo carefully on his chest.

    “What are you wearing?”

    Niall looks down his front.

    “It’s Top Gun.”

    Zayn just raises his eyebrows.

    “Ok.”

    “80’s party. Laura is very old.”

    “Mmm.” He smiles sleepily and stretches one hand out like a drowning man, like he’s reaching for a lifeline. “Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

    The caged bird in Niall’s middle flaps its wings. Stutters and stops.

    “Huh?”

    “Nothing.” Zayn yawns. “It’s from the movie, remember? We used to watch it on the bus after...” He lets the sentence peter out. He drops his hand.

    Niall suddenly feels ridiculous, like Zayn’s taking the piss. Like Niall’s not someone who can be taken seriously or who deserves to be spoken to straight. He feels exhausted. He knows he’s meant to say something benign or make a joke, but instead he just stands there and tucks his hands under his arms again. Makes himself small.

    “Are you coming back, then?”

    Zayn looks awake now. And confused.

    “What?”

    “Now you and Perrie have split. That was why you left, right?”

    Zayn just stares at him for a moment like he can’t believe what’s coming out of Niall’s mouth and that makes Niall want to strangle him because what else would be coming out of Niall’s mouth? It’s an obvious question, isn’t it?

    Theo stirs then and moves his head against Zayn’s neck. Zayn makes a “ _shhhhh_ ” noise and stands up off the couch.

    “Let me put him down. I’ll come right back.” His face changes, just for an instant, like he regrets his wording, then he’s back to unreadable. His resting state.

    Niall sits. He rubs the palms of his hands against his knees and listens to the music and doesn’t think. Mick Jagger’s voice is raw. Trembling. Like he’s pleading for something.

_Every night you’ve been away...I’ve sat down and I have prayed..._

    He should turn this off.

    He’s about to get up and fiddle with the stereo when Zayn comes back and sits down on the coffee table directly in front of him. They’re eye-to-eye now. There’s nowhere for Niall to hide. It makes him nervous and he looks anywhere but at Zayn’s face until Zayn catches his eye.

    “Are you drunk?”

    Niall glares at him.

    “Do I seem drunk?”

    “You were wearing sunglasses inside.”

    “I always wear sunglasses inside.”

    “Fair enough.”

    Niall fiddles with the seam on the knee of his flight suit. It’s so stupid. It’s so stupid that they’re about to actually talk about it and this is what he’s wearing. He feels like a caricature of himself.

    “I’m not coming back.”

    Niall feels his jaw tighten. His mouth feels strange like he’s just eaten something acrid and sour.

    “Why? That was the thing, wasn’t it? You wanted to give it a real go with Perrie?”

    “No.”

    Niall looks up sharply. Zayn is watching his own hands resting in his lap.

    “I mean yeah. A little. And I did but...like I said we’d sort of called it a while back. I just had to make sure.”

    "So why can’t you come back? What’s stopping you now?”

    Zayn laughs. It’s quiet and quick and completely devoid of humor. Niall hates that sort of laugh. It’s such a waste.

    “Me? I guess? I’m stopping me? I just...couldn’t do it anymore. It was always hard, but I had something like home to come back to. I had Perrie, even if that was all sideways half the time. When that really started falling apart I just couldn’t...I couldn’t keep it up. The song and dance. The pretending it wasn’t getting to me. The _pretending_. It was like my entire life—everything that was real—was put on hold. Just like...frozen. In limbo, kind of. I never got the chance to figure out who I was or where I fit...and I would go home to visit and feel like some kind of...alien. Then Perrie left and it all got that much further away and for the first time it was like...I couldn’t see my way through to the end? So I thought I’d...end it myself. It felt like time.”

    Niall shakes his head. No. That’s not right. That’s all wrong.

    “But we always said it was all of us or nothing. That we’d decide together. It wasn’t going to be much longer. We’re all tired, but we’ve got to stick it out. You can’t just—“

    “ _We_.”

    It’s so soft when he says it, like he’s talking to himself. Like it’s not meant for Niall. Niall feels a surge of anger. Frustration.

    “Yeah, Zayn, _WE_. It was supposed to be the five of us together. We were supposed to follow it through to the end.”

    Zayn looks off toward the kitchen and Niall could swear he’s rolling his eyes. It makes him feel like he might burn up. He wants to shove Zayn off the table. He wants to jump up and yell and scream and cry and make Zayn hear him. Make him come back.

    “It was never the five of us, Niall.”

    It feels like blasphemy. It’s so far from anything he could’ve imagined he would hear out of Zayn’s mouth that it makes him physically ill.

_"What_?”

    Zayn shakes his head. His eyes look bright, like he might cry. His voice cracks a little when he speaks again.

    “If you think it was the same...for you lot. If you think it was the same for you as it was for me...that we were living the same life...”

    Niall deflates. Like a month’s worth of anger and tension is dissipating...evaporating out through his pores and leaving him sinking and heavy and soft and awful. He feels like a terrible person. Like a terrible friend. He probably _is_ a terrible friend. He sinks back against the couch. Wants to be absorbed by it. Wants to disappear.

    “Jesus.”

    “It just got to be too much. That shit in Thailand with Lou—and then the papers. The things they said. I just...I couldn’t do it anymore.”

    Niall stares at the floor. He can’t look at Zayn right now. All the shit that went unsaid—everything they never acknowledged—it’s just...hanging there. Zayn has always gotten the worst of it. It’s always been something else for him. Something more insidious. But they’d all just sort of toed the party line. _Don’t engage, don’t respond. Don’t validate their bullshit._

    Zayn taps the back of his hand lightly. Brings him back. “It isn’t your fault...”

    “Yes it is. We never...we’ve all been such pricks.”

    “Yeah...we’ve all been pricks, babe. All five of us.”

    He presses himself up off the table and settles next to Niall—gingerly, like he’s trying not to spook him. They sit there without saying anything while the music plays. Mick Jagger is singing about sleeping under strange skies. Niall leans into Zayn’s side and feels him soften.

    “I’m sorry...about Perrie.”

    It feels inadequate.

    Zayn puts an arm around Niall’s shoulders and squeezes.

    “Yeah. We tried. We’re still friends at least. I need her, you know? She’s the right sort of person for me.”

    Niall just nods against Zayn’s chest. He gets that.

    “She’s a lot like you.”

    He’s not sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. Zayn presses a hand to the side of Niall’s head.

    “I’m going to put the kettle on. You want?”

    “Yeah.”

____

 

    He goes to the bedroom while Zayn is in the kitchen sorting out the tea. Theo is lying on his back with his baby blanket pulled up to his ribs, his mouth soft and his chest rising and falling gently. He’s less overwhelming like this. Less of a conundrum. The nightlight on the beside table spins slowly and throws light and shadows across the walls of the bedroom, ghostly fish swimming around in circles. Niall likes it. He might get one for himself when Theo’s gone. He wonders if that’s too weird. He wonders if a lot of things are too weird.

    He undresses quietly--letting the ridiculous flight suit fall to the floor and pulling on a pair of trackies and a tee shirt--then he lets himself out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

    Zayn is setting the mugs down on the table when he comes back. “Is he still out?”

    Niall nods.

    “Like a light.”

    Zayn fiddles with his tea bag for a moment and settles back onto the couch. Niall sits next to him, close but not too close. He’d like to press up against Zayn again, to feel the warm reality of him, but he’s not sure that’s the sort of thing you can leave and then come back to.

    “You’re good with him, you know.”

    Niall laughs.

    “I’m rubbish. You said yourself.”

    “You’re rubbish with the _nappies_. That’s just part of it. You can learn that. You’re good with the other stuff.”

    Niall just shrugs and picks his mug up off the table. It’s nice, though. It’s nice of Zayn to say it.

    “Do you ever think about it?”

    Niall is confused for a moment.

    “About nappies?”

    Zayn laughs.

    “About the whole thing. About having one someday.”

    Niall twitches noncommittally and he suddenly feels uncomfortable. Just a twinge. Like they’re entering uncharted territory.

    “Don’t know. That would require finding a person, like...who’s not me.”

    “I guess.” Zayn sounds thoughtful. “I mean...not necessarily.”

    Niall laughs.

    “Clearly I’m not cut out for doing it meself.”

    “Fair point.”

     They sip their tea quietly for a moment. Niall feels a little warm in his cheeks. He wonders what sort of conversation they’re having. Where it’s going.

    “Why haven’t you ever?”

    “Had a baby?”

    “Don’t be obtuse.”

    “I don’t even know what that means.”

    “It means you’re playing dumb. Why have you never had like...a person...to come back to?”

    Niall tugs at the string of his tea bag. Swishes the thing around in the cup.

    “I’ve dated plenty of people.”

    “Yeah but not for long.”

    Niall doesn’t say anything. He feels Zayn shift. When he speaks, his voice is gentle. It’s weird; Niall doesn’t like it. He isn't sure he likes feeling fragile, like something that needs to be handled with care.

    “What about that Aussie girl? Melly?”

    Niall shakes his head dismissively.

    “We were just hanging out. Friends, like.”

    “Seemed to be more than that.”

    “Yeah...I liked her.”

    “So what happened?”

    Niall feels his body tensing up again, like his whole self is pulling inward. Why does everyone care about this? Why always the same questions?

    “Same thing that always happens. Got to a certain point and we just like...didn’t want the same things.”

    “Like she wanted...what? To be serious? Or...to be...not serious?”

    Niall presses a long breath out through his teeth. He should go to bed. He doesn’t want to talk about this, does he? This is not a thing he talks about and anyway, they’re meant to be talking about Zayn. He’s changing the subject.

    “Did she want a—“

    “She wanted me to want her.”

    It’s a meaningless thing. It explains nothing, but he’s not sure what else to say. He’s not sure how to put the words together. He looks over at Zayn. His face is patient but bewildered.

    “I...don’t know what that means. Like you didn’t love her?”

    Niall laughs, short and sharp.

    “No. I think I fell in love with her a little. That’s not the issue.”

    “Then...what?”

    “It’s...the other stuff.”

    Zayn doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for Niall to elaborate, but Niall’s not sure he wants to. Zayn isn’t speaking, though, so Niall fills the empty space. The way he always does.

    “It happens every time. I spend time with someone and it’s like...really great. Then at a certain point it’s like ‘shall we take this to the next level?’ and I just sort of...don’t want...all that. Once they realize...”

    Zayn raises his eyebrows a little.

    “Don’t look at me like that.”

    “Sorry. I’m just surprised. So like...it’s...what? You just haven’t found anyone you like enough?”

    Niall frowns over at Zayn, then realizes what Zayn must be thinking.

    “Jesus, Zayn, I’m not a virgin.”

    “Oh. I didn’t think—“ he takes a sip of his tea and looks away quickly.

    “I’ve had plenty of sex. It’s just never been like...the thing.”

    “Ok.”

    “And I’ve been in love plenty. Like a lot. Like all the time. I fall in love with like every person I meet. That’s not the issue. It’s just that...love’s not sex. Sex isn’t love. They’re not the same thing.”

    “I know that...”

    “Do you?” It comes out of him abruptly, bitter around the edges. “Seems like the rest of the world is having a harder time figuring it out.”

    “I know that. I’m just...I’m surprised is all. You’ve always been so like...physical, you know?”

    There’s...a lot. A lot held in that word, in what Zayn’s just said. Niall remembers how warm it would get in Zayn’s bunk with the two of them stuffed in there together, wrapped around each other like koala bears or wrestling octopi. Sharing space. Pressing into each other’s soft and hard parts. Zayn’s lips against his ear. The pressure of his hands. The soft beat of his heart in his chest and the small noises he made in his sleep. The curve of his fingers, pressing lightly to Theo’s tiny chest--but that’s now, that’s not then. It’s all muddled.

    “It’s not the same thing. Cuddling isn’t sex. I like all that just fine. I love it.”

    “Okay.”

    It sounds like a full stop, like he’s satisfied somehow, and Zayn pulls Niall close, tucks him under one arm. It’s a relief. It’s familiar, but there’s something new there too. Something fresh and exhilarating and a little scary because Niall feels laid bare. He’s never really talked about any of this before. It all feels different now that Zayn’s left. Now that he’s gone away and now that he’s here. It’s like he’s closer than he’s ever been but further away, like he’s been removed from Niall’s real life and like he’s infiltrated it at the same time. He’s a paradox. A safe space.

    “You fall in love with everyone?”

    Zayn’s smiling. Teasing. Niall can hear it in his voice. He sits up again and sips his tea.

    “Yeah, loads.”

    Zayn looks thoughtful. Curious.

    “Are you in love with Harry?”

    Niall laughs a little despite himself. He shakes his head.

    “Sure. He’s got beautiful hair.”

    “What about Liam?”

    “Yeah.” He taps out a rhythm on the side of his mug with two fingers. “Everyone’s in love with Liam.”

    “What about me?”

    The bird is in motion again, flapping and fluttering in his middle.

    “You’re the most in love with Liam.”

    “You’re doing it again.”

    Niall just smiles tightly down into his mug.

    “Yeah. Of course.”

    “Nice.” He sounds so casually pleased, like Niall has just told him there’re biscuits in the press. “I love you too.”

    Niall breathes in and then out. He looks up and Zayn is smiling over at him, his mouth soft, like he’s not bothered by any of this. He lifts a hand and presses a finger to Niall’s mouth, covering his lips. He looks quizzical now. He’s trying to puzzle something out.

    “What about kissing?”

    “What about it?” He says it into Zayn’s finger and it sounds like a mumble.

    “You seemed to like that part...”

    Niall feels his breath hitch. It’s the shock of the words. The acknowledgement and the remembering. The way Zayn’s lips felt, sort of lazy and unhurried and soft, like they had all the time in the world. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like they had nowhere to be and nowhere to go and nothing to worry about. Like no one was leaving because no one was. That was in the beginning, when everything seemed infinite. He tries not to think of it too much. It was a long time ago. He remembers, though, and Zayn does too, apparently. Zayn thinks about it. Niall swallows.

    “I like it just fine.”

    Zayn nods and moves his hand from Niall’s mouth to the back of his head, cupping his neck.

   “Okay.”

    Something is about to happen. He can sense it. Can feel it in the way Zayn is pressing his hand into the curve of his neck and the way he looks very deliberate but curious, like he’s about to ask a question. Niall isn’t sure what to do so he waits, his breath shallow, and Zayn licks his lips—

    There’s a noise from the bedroom, something falling to the ground with a thud. For a moment everything is quiet...like they’re waiting for something to resolve itself, both of them with their heads turned to the dark hallway. It’s like time is balanced on the edge of a precipice, suspended for just an instant before it falls forward on and on and on into the future. Then Theo starts crying.

 

* * *

 

    “We should go somewhere.”

    “Hmm?”

    Niall stirs, the book resting open on his chest. _That was Fal_ l. The line is stuck in his head. The last thing he read. Did he fall asleep? Zayn’s voice sounds muffled.

    Niall opens his eyes and looks across the top of Theo’s head. Zayn is looking back at him, his eyes lidded, his face half-obscured by the pillow.

    “We should go somewhere. Together. The three of us.”

    Niall shakes his head softly.

    “The paps will have a field day with that. No...I want to keep this to meself.”

    He looks down at Theo. _This_. All of this. _Zayn_. He wonders what Liam would say. What Louis would think. He wonders why he hasn’t told them, why he feels like Zayn’s a thing he needs to hide.

    Zayn smiles sleepily.

    “We can keep it to ourselves.”

    “How? Go invisible? Wear a disguise?”

    Zayn laughs softly and rolls onto his back. He sings into the darkness above their heads.

    “ _Baaaybeeee...I know places we won’t be found_...”

    Niall scoffs. He makes a “ _shhhh_ ” noise and covers Zayn’s mouth with one hand.

    “You’ll wake him.”

    Zayn reaches up and moves Niall’s hand off his face. He presses it to his chest and covers it with his own. Niall can feel the rise and fall of his ribs as he breathes. The solidity of him. His warmth. It feels weirdly intimate, like he’s holding Zayn’s heart in his hand. Like Zayn is trusting him with some part of himself. Niall closes his eyes.

    “Do you really?”

    “Do I really what?”

    “Know places.”

    Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment.

    “Nah...but they’ve got to exist, you know? I’ll google it. The internet will know. Anyway, it’s the middle of the week. Everyone’s got a real job. We’ll find a beach or an empty field or something and it’ll just be us and Theo and the birds and the trees and the dogs and the frogs.”

    Niall nods into the pillow.

    “Yeah...”

    He’s falling asleep again. He thinks of the three of them outside, away from this house and this city and this life. Somewhere else. It sounds impossible.

    “Yeah alright.”

 

* * *

 

    “Is it meant to rain?”

    He’s digging through his wardrobe trying to settle on an outfit. It’s difficult when he’s not sure where they’re going or what to expect.

    “Nah, babe. Sun. Just sun.”

    Niall turns and bites his lip.

    “Like hot? Should I bring a jacket?”

    Zayn sets Theo on the bed and hands him a stuffed dog.

    “Could you sit here, please? I’m going to go help Niall dress himself.”

    Niall observes this, curious. It’s something he’s noticed that Zayn does when he’s with Theo: he explains. He doesn’t just move Theo around like a piece of furniture or leave him without articulating his reasons. It’s like he wants Theo to know where he’s going, why he’s done what he’s done. That he’s coming back. It’s comforting and...upsetting. Niall looks away. He concentrates on the clothes hanging in front of him.

    Zayn joins Niall in the walk-in and tugs a pair of boots off the shelf, hands them to Niall, then picks a pair of blue jeans. He moves down the line, touching shirts and jackets lightly, appraising each item. He slows to a stop at the green jacket, the one Niall wore to the studio last week. Niall feels his face go hot. He’s about to explain, but he’s not sure what to say, what there _is_ to explain.

    “This one’s good.” Zayn pulls it off the hanger and hands it to Niall. “Looks nice with the shirt and all. Just wear that.”

    “I--ok. Thanks.”

    Niall walks out to the bedroom and tosses the stuff on the bed next to Theo.

    “Wait...how do you know it looks nice?”

    Zayn laughs a little like he’s embarrassed. Like he’s been caught at something.

    “I’ve just been keeping up, that’s all.”

    Niall raises an eyebrow.

    “Keeping up? Like creeping?”

    “I’m always creepin’. You know that. Don’t look at me. Get dressed.”

    Niall tugs the jeans on and digs a striped shirt out of the dresser, but stops mid-rifle.

    “Wait. Does that mean you like the hat?”

    Zayn keeps pawing through Niall’s clothes. He pulls out a white button-up, holds it up to himself. Puts it back.

    “Yeah. I like it. It’s cute. That and the jacket, you look like an old-timey revolutionary or something.”

    “Sick. Thanks. Louis says I look like I should be selling newspapers.”  

    “Louis is an idiot.”

    It’s too quick, a little too sharp. Niall looks down and focuses on getting his boots on.

    “Yeah.”

    When he looks up, Zayn is watching him. He looks confused.

    "What?"

    “Nothing, just...When did you get so old?”

    “What are you even talking about? The same time you did, I expect.”

    “You just—” Zayn waves his hand around vaguely and turns away again. “You look nice. The whole...thing you’ve got going on these days.”

    Niall isn’t sure what to say to that. It feels good. It feels good that Zayn’s noticed. But compliments are...difficult. He shrugs like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t matter.

    “Thanks.”

    “I’ll pack Theo’s bag. You get some food together.” Zayn heads for the bathroom. “And bring your guitar. We’ll make it a proper picnic.”

_____

    Zayn doesn’t know places, but the internet does have a few ideas. They pack the car with lunch and blankets and Niall’s acoustic guitar. They bring a bag full of toys for Theo—in case he’s the sort who’s not impressed by the beauty of the natural world—and head south in Niall’s Range Rover toward the coast. They fill the in between time with music, singing along to Taylor Swift and the Eagles and McFly. Theo falls asleep before they’ve even hit the motorway. He’s out until they turn off the main road and the land goes green and rolling and vast.

    “You’ll turn on Devil’s Dyke Road and then we can park.”

    Niall snickers a little and grips the steering wheel, peering out the windscreen.

    “Devil’s Dyke? Jesus. Sounds like somewhere you’d go to like...do a witchy ritual murder.”

    “Awww, no.”

    “What?”

    Zayn looks disappointed.

    “You’ve ruined the surprise.”

    Niall whacks him in the arm.

    “Shut up.”

    “Shhhh. Stop it. You’re so _violent_. Think of Theo. You’re a terrible role model.”

    They find a car park attached to a pub and leave the Range Rover at the far end. It’s nearly deserted, but they’re not trying to make any new friends so they gather their things quickly and get Theo situated in his carrier. They set out into the fields along a narrow dirt path. Everything is green. Green and brown and sprawling and lovely. The sky is blue and the wildflowers have just started blooming and Niall wants to soak it all in, the bigness and the quiet and the open air. He spends so much time cooped up in tiny spaces—hotel rooms and buses and studios—but that’s not what he was made for. He was made for outside. For green things and open skies and dirt and the occasional bit of livestock.

    They walk for an hour, give or take, through the valley and up a steep hill. When they reach the top, they find a lookout of sorts. Stone benches and a viewfinder. They take turns studying the surrounding hills and let Theo out of the carrier to explore a bit while they set up their picnic.

    Once the blanket is arranged, they sit together quietly. Not moving much, not talking. It’s like they’re acclimating, easing into the moment and the feeling of having nowhere to go and no one to be. Niall breathes out and feels himself relax. There’s no one around, it’s just the three of them out in open space, anonymous and small just for today. He tugs his hat off and tosses it aside, lying back on the blanket and letting Theo climb on top of him.

    “This is nice. You’re really smart.”

    Zayn is sitting crosslegged, studying something on his phone.

    “Yeah I know.”

    “There’s like two different golf courses out here. We should play sometime.”

    It just sort of comes out and then he feels weird. Like he’s a little too hot lying here in the sun. He tries not to think of what _sometime_ means. Theo is going back home in a few days and then what? Anyway, Zayn doesn’t play golf. He’s not said anything so clearly he understands that it was a ridiculous proposition.

    “Or not. Why would you want to play _golf_? God. Ignore me.”

    “Nah...” Zayn sounds distracted. “I’m down. Listen to this: _locals believe that the devil carved the valley out in order to drown the parishioners from the surrounding villages_.”

    “Creepy.”

    “Witchy ritual murder. You nailed it, then. Nice one.”

    Niall waves his arms triumphantly and drops them.

    “Says here the thing to do is fly a kite. Haven’t got one of those. Oh! It says if we’re feeling cheeky we can roll down the hills.”

    “Huh.” Niall sits up and scoots to the edge of the plateau. He looks down the hill. It does look quite soft. It might be fun. He lies down and breathes in, then out.

    “Are you gonna do it?”

    “Wish me luck.”

    “Good luck. Godspeed.”

    He rolls once, twice.

    “Wait! Wait.”

    Niall stops just at the edge of the drop.

    “What?”

    Zayn is on his knees scooting awkwardly over toward Niall then kneeling at his side.

    “What if you crack your head open and die?”

    Niall considers it.

    “Dunno. Theo will have to carry me back to the car I suppose.”

    “Ok. But like....just in case.”

    He leans down and kisses Niall right on the lips, quick as anything.

    “Love you.”

    Then he shoves Niall over the edge.  


____

 

    It’s a unique, exhilarating sort of feeling, the falling. Spinning off into a void. Letting go of effort and being carried away.

    Rolling down the hill is fun too.

    He hugs himself around the chest and gathers speed, lets out a couple whoops and a long scream, and eventually rolls to a stop. Not all the way at the bottom, thank god. He’s beached himself in a flatter area about halfway down the hill. He sits up slowly, stands and finds his footing. His head is spinning. He’s dizzy. The fluttering is back in the pit of his stomach, but there’s something nice about it this time. It’s not so sick and anxious.

    He makes his way back up the hill and by the time he’s got to the top, he’s out of breath and just breaking a sweat. Zayn is sitting with Theo, snacking on biscuits and sliced apples. He looks up when Niall gets back and his expression is friendly but wary. A little uncertain.

    “How was it?”

    Niall sinks to his knees on the blanket. He grabs a biscuit, pops it in his mouth, and shrugs out of his jacket. He feels exhilarated. Shaken loose.

    “Good. Great. You should try it.”

    “I’m sorry about that.”

    “It’s fine. I was about to go over anyway. Little shove couldn’t hurt.”

    Niall picks at a thread on the blanket. He’s starting to blush, thinking about the kiss. He can feel the warmth rising in his cheeks.

    “No I mean...I should have asked if that was ok. The...other thing. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

    Niall looks up then and Zayn is so fucking earnest and bright and alive. The great outdoors suits him. He looks flushed, like borderline glowy. Niall’s stomach flips in a pleasantly terrifying sort of way.

    “It was ok.”

    Zayn nods. He still looks uncertain, like he’s scared or something, and it makes Niall want to reassure him. To let him know everything is alright, but he’s not sure how or what he should say so he just leans forward and presses his lips to Zayn’s. He holds them there, like he’s cementing his intention. Making sure that Zayn knows...what? That it’s not an accident? Or a mistake? That it’s ok, the two of them like this? Who is he trying to convince?

    Niall isn’t sure. He’s not sure about anything, really, but it feels the same, kissing Zayn. The same as it always did when they used to a thousand years ago. When they were young and drunk on possibility and terrified of the future and clinging to each other like life preservers. But it’s different now, too. New. Deliberate. Niall’s not got the braces and Zayn tastes like apples.

    Niall pulls back and looks away. Eats another biscuit and focuses on wrestling his guitar out of the case. Everything feels very real and NOW and immediate. He can still feel the warmth of Zayn’s mouth on his. He tries his best to act nonchalant like things are normal and very much ok.

    Zayn kisses Theo on the head and lies down on the ground, looking up at the sky, not saying anything. Then he rolls over to the edge of the hill and away.

 

    They stay there for a couple hours more, give or take. Niall plays the guitar and they sing songs for Theo and they finish the food and Zayn presses the side of his foot into the side of Niall’s. Soft, steady pressure. They fall asleep, they wake up, they let Theo roll down the hill a few times--in a controlled, restrained sort of way--and then they walk back to the car as the sun moves lower in the sky to pack everything away. Zayn and Theo sleep all the way home. Niall listens to some of the stuff they recorded last week in the studio. Quietly, just loud enough to hear. He doesn’t want to wake them. He taps on the steering wheel and chews at his nails and hums along and thinks of guitar riffs and drum fills and he doesn’t worry for once; then he starts to worry that he’s not worried enough. He looks over at Zayn. His face is soft and untroubled and beautiful in the dim light off the motorway.

    Shouldn’t he be worried?

    Zayn stirs as they arrive back in London. He looks out the window, then down at the stereo. Niall reaches over and turns it off.

    “Was that Liam?”

    His voice is quiet.

    “Yeah. Just some stuff from last week.”

    “Huh.”

    He doesn’t say anything more. Niall concentrates on navigating the city streets, one hand on the gearshift. Then his hand is being moved, held and turned over. He glances over and watches Zayn trace the length of his palm, feels him pressing at the callouses on the tips of his fingers. It feels small and intimate. It tickles a bit. Niall laughs quietly. He pulls his hand back.

    “I need to drive with that.”

    They arrive at the house and gather Theo up out of the car. He’s fast asleep. Zayn carries him inside and Niall sets their things in the living room. He doesn’t feel like sorting them out now; he can put them away tomorrow. Zayn walks Theo into the guest bedroom where the cot is set up, where they’ve stashed all his clothes, and Niall heads for the bathroom. He stands there for a moment appraising his reflection: he doesn’t look any different than he did this morning; maybe like he’s gotten some sun. It’s possible he’s got a tan line on his forehead from the cap, which is absurd and embarrassing, but that’s life. He brushes his teeth, splashes his face with water and heads back out to the hallway just as Zayn is coming out again.

    “Where’s Theo?”

    Zayn pulls the door halfway closed and turns.

    “Put him down in his cot.”

    Niall just stands there.

    “Oh.”

    No one moves for what feels like an eternity. Then Zayn reaches out. Presses a finger into Niall’s middle and lets it drop. He angles his head toward the bedroom.

    “Is it alright if I sleep in there still? I’ve sort of gotten used to it.”

    Niall nods. He swallows.

    “Yeah. Ok.”

    “Ok.”

    But Zayn doesn’t move. He stands there. The hallway feels very small with the two of them in it. Zayn parts his lips and starts to say something. Thinks better of it. He tries again.

    “I’d like to kiss you again. Is that alright?”

    “Why do you do that?”

    Zayn looks uncertain.

    “Do what? Kiss you?” He looks like he’s searching for an answer somewhere in the air above Niall’s head. “because I like you? Because I want to?”

    Niall shakes his head quickly.

    “No! No...I get that. Why do you like...narrate what you mean to do? I’ve heard you doing it with Theo, it’s just...I dunno. It’s funny, like.”

    Niall doesn’t understand why he’s asking or why it matters. Why this is something he needs to know _now_. Maybe he’s scared or maybe he’s trying to delay something that seems inevitable and terrifying and unfathomable, stopping to chat before he rolls off this cliff.

    Zayn laughs.

    “I don’t know it just...seems like the right thing to do. You can’t just go around doing whatever you want with people.”

    “You can do whatever you want with me.” It comes out weird. Abrupt. Niall blushes. “I mean, I’m fine. I’m not a baby.”

    He looks at Zayn. Zayn is very clearly trying not to laugh. _I’m not a baby_. Jesus. He tries again.

    “I mean I’m fine with whatever you want.”

    “Ok.” Zayn steps closer. His voice is soft. “But like...I’d rather do what you want. So just...let me know.”

    Niall nods. He considers, and then he kisses Zayn. Kisses him again, and then again. And again.

____

 

    Niall likes touching Zayn, exploring the different parts of him. He likes his lips on Zayn’s mouth and down his neck and he likes running a hand over the softness of his shaved head. Pressing into the side of him and feeling his solidity and his warmth. They lie awake for way too long, undressing slowly, feeling each other’s parts. Zayn moves his hand over Niall’s body carefully, like he’s testing the edges of what’s allowed.

    “Is that alright?” The warm flat of his palm on Niall’s side, moving toward his hip. “And that?” Niall’s whispered assent. Or a shake of the head. Sometimes it’s no and that’s ok. It doesn’t seem to bother Zayn, Niall setting those boundaries, defining what this is and what it can be. It makes Niall brave doing this with Zayn, being this with Zayn. It makes him honest.

_Maybe_ , he breathes. _Maybe. Just not now._

    “I like the shape of you.”

    Niall laughs a little at the way Zayn says it— _the shape of you_ —and Zayn laughs in turn, covering Niall’s mouth with one hand.

    “Shut up.” He sounds embarrassed. “You know what I mean.”

    Niall likes the shape of Zayn. The way his chest curves into his stomach and his stomach becomes other parts. He likes the place just between his hip bones and his belly where he’s put the black heart, just there in the middle like a waypoint on the path running down from his waist. A touchstone. Niall kisses it and Zayn seems to like that spot, too. Niall likes listening to Zayn’s breath hitch. Likes the way Zayn’s cock curves in his pants, the hardness of it. It’s a thing that confuses him sometimes, that liking. If he likes that part, likes the way Zayn looks when he’s turned on, the way his cock feels when Niall presses his palm flat against it, if it makes Niall hard in turn...then why not? Why does he not want the other stuff? Why does that never translate into any sort of need? It seems so illogical sometimes, that divide. So frustratingly arbitrary.

    He knows what it is to want someone. He wants Zayn so badly he feels like he could consume him whole. He wants to be close to him and hold him and make him feel good and just... _keep_ him. Make him stay. It’s just not—when he really feels down to the root of it—a particularly sexual thing. He doesn’t want to _fuck_ Zayn....He _could_ , like. He's capable of it, it’s not out of the question, he just...doesn’t desire that in the way everyone’s always demanded of him.

    Everyone before. Everyone who’s not Zayn.

    It’s weird with Zayn...or it’s right. Because Zayn doesn’t seem bothered. He doesn’t seem frustrated that Niall can’t want him in that specific sort of way, that there’re things Niall might not be able to give him. Niall moves his hand down over the front of Zayn’s pants and Zayn breathes out softly like a sigh, and Niall says “I could—“ but Zayn just shakes his head.

    “Nah.” He reaches down and takes Niall’s hand away, moves it to his chest and holds it there. “I’m good. Just this is good.”

_____

 

    It’s nice waking up together. Theo sleeps through most of the night with just a bit of grizzling at two or so. Zayn untangles himself from a mess of blankets and Niall’s limbs and goes to tend to him while Niall just lies there in a heap. He reaches one arm out as Zayn’s letting himself out the door and croaks something like “ _my hero_ ” and Zayn laughs quietly, shushing him.

    “Go back to sleep.”

    Zayn’s back when Niall wakes up again and there’s light coming through the curtains, creeping across the bed, illuminating swirls of dust in the air above them. Zayn is lying on his stomach hugging the pillow to his face and one of his legs is thrown over Niall’s middle. It’s slightly crushing, the weight of him, but weirdly stabilising at the same time. Like he’s holding Niall down, pinning him to the earth. Niall’s mind is quiet. His insides are calm. No fluttering or sinking or incessant buzz. It’s like he’s actually here in this moment. Existing at this point in time.

    He extricates himself and checks on Theo, who’s still out, then allows himself a quick shower. He thinks of Zayn lying in his bed. The shape of him, tangled in Niall’s blankets. Drooling on Niall’s pillow. It’s nice. It’s not nervous or scary or fraught, it’s just Zayn. He fits here. He seems to nest right into Niall’s life, into his home.

    He thinks of leaving—of his flight to LA, getting back to the promotional grind—and realizes suddenly how much he’ll miss this place. It’s a novel sort of feeling, new and strange. It’s something about having Theo here and the way he informs the space: leaving his biscuits about, his toys in the bath, giving Niall a reason to be present. Something about Zayn, too. Maybe that was the key all along. Just here, just this house, was never going to feel like home and being on tour with the boys has never felt like a stable grounded space the way a home should be. Maybe this is what Niall’s needed. Both things at once. A home inside a home.

 

* * *

 

    “I’ve got a brunch date with Pez today.”

    He says it into Niall’s neck so Niall feels it as he hears it: a soft, pleasant vibration. Zayn’s arms are around his waist holding him from behind as he warms a bottle for Theo on the hob. Niall shrugs.

    “Cool, yeah. Say hi for m--.” He balks. “Err...or maybe not that.” Niall’s not told anyone about Zayn. About him being here. He wonders suddenly if Zayn’s told anyone about him.

    Zayn laughs.

    “Yeah. I’ll say hi.” He gives Niall a quick kiss on the shoulder and lets him go. He sits next to Theo at the table and helps him sort a pile of breakfast cereal bits, opening his mouth wide and letting Theo feed him every third or fourth piece.

    “Gonna stop by the studio and say hi after, but I’ll be back this evening.”

    “Yeah cool.”

    Niall frowns. He knows what Zayn means when he says “the studio”. He understands that Zayn’s got his own friends, the same way Niall has. The same way they all have. There’s something eating at him, though. An ugly feeling.

    “Are you working on music and stuff? Like recording anything?”

    “Dunno,” Zayn sounds bored. It’s the voice he affects when he doesn’t want to talk about something. When he’s trying to pretend something doesn’t matter. “A little. Just for fun or whatever.”

    Niall swirls the bottle around in the water and then tugs it out, wiping it down with a tea towel. He tries to make his voice casual, chipper. Everything is supposed to be good now. There’s not meant to be anything eating at him. Nothing going unsaid.

    “Nice. I’d love to hear it.”

    Zayn leaves at 10. He tugs his boots on and heads for the door, then takes a detour back to the kitchen and pulls Niall close. Plants a kiss on his lips and buries his face in Niall’s neck.

    “I’ll be back for bedtime.”

    Niall tilts his head and rests it against Zayn’s. He laughs, and it sounds tight. Something is eating at him, like Zayn mentioning the studio—his other life—broke the seal on Niall’s anxiety. Sent him spinning off again. Zayn lets him go, but he lingers.

    “You’ve gone somewhere, Ni.”

    Niall looks at him, confused.

    “What?”

    Zayn taps him on the forehead with two fingers, lightly.

    “You’ve flown away. I don’t know what did it but like...we can talk. When I get back.”

    Niall shakes his head.

    “I don’t know what you mean. I’ll just see you later, ok?”

    Zayn shrugs. Smiles. Heads for the door.

    “Yeah alright.”

____

 

    Niall immerses himself in Theo for the day. Throws himself into playing games. Watches cartoons with rapt attention and checks Theo’s nappy way more times than is strictly necessary and (unsuccessfully) resists the urge to check various twitter accounts of people he doesn’t actually know and shouldn’t be concerning himself with. He plays guitar and tries to write but all he manages is a very silly song about socks only because Theo seems to love it.

    “Where are the socks, Theo?”

    “On the tabuh!”

    “Where are the socks, Theo?”

    “ON THE FOWUH!”

    Bedtime comes and goes and Niall checks his phone but there’s no word from Zayn so he decides to put Theo down own his own. He doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. Zayn’s not obligated to be here, and anyway he’s been here so much lately, it’s good he’s gone out to tend to his real life.

_His real life_. Niall winces. No. That’s not right. Niall is Zayn’s real life. Every part of Zayn’s life is real, right? Everything is fine. Nothing is broken.

    He gets Theo in the bed and reads him the book. He’s nearly got it memorized now. It’s always the same. The frog leaves in the end. The frog dies. The dog is l left alone, waiting for his friend. Niall’s just got to the terrible part when he hears the soft electronic chime of the front door. Hears footsteps in the hall. The tap running in the bathroom. A toilet flush.

    Zayn lets himself into the room and slips out of his shoes.

    “Hey bub. Not asleep yet?”

    “We’re working on it.”

    Zayn changes his clothes and situates himself on the other side of Theo. He smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Of other places. He takes the book from Niall and stretches his arm across the pillows and reads.

    “ _City dog looked for country frog. Country frog was not there._ ”

    Niall feels Zayn’s hand at the top of his head, smoothing his hair. He closes his eyes.

    “ _That was Winter_.”

 

* * *

 

 

    “Here comes the boom! Here comes the boom!”

    Theo is laughing hysterically. Half the food isn’t even getting in his mouth, it’s just falling right out and onto his bib, but Zayn keeps going, dipping the spoon in the porridge and waving it around and flying it right at Theo’s face like an airplane.

    Niall laughs and shakes his head.

    “What are you even doing? He’s old enough to feed himself, you know. You’re making a right mess.”

    “It’s DMX! We’re breakfasting with DMX. Anyway, he likes it.” Zayn wipes at Theo’s face with his bib and sets the bowl down. “Here, you can have a go if you like. Sing him some soft dad rock or something, that’ll probably get most of it in his mouth.”

    Niall looks up from his phone.

    “Are you taking the piss?”

    Zayn laughs.

    “Nah. I would never.”

    Niall eyes Zayn suspiciously and takes over, spooning the last of the porridge into Theo’s mouth and wiping up. Zayn is bouncing a little on his toes, rocking back and forth to some beat he’s hearing in his head. He seems happy. Light. Distracted.

    Niall takes the bowl to the sink and rinses it.

    “Did you have a good one?”

    “Hmm?” Zayn looks up from his phone.

    “At the studio? Did you have a good night? You seem all like...jazzed.”

    Zayn smiles and shrugs.

    “Yeah. Suppose so.” He pulls out a chair and sits, leaning his elbows on the table. “It’s nice, you know? It’s nice being here and knowing I’ve not got to run off. That I’ve got nowhere to go. It’s nice like...building something of my own.”

    Niall nods. Sure. He gets that. Zayn’s life has just opened up, become one big question mark. A sea of possibility. It’s good. Good that he gets to stay here in London and figure out where he fits in. Everything he’s got going on with Shahid is like...fresh. A new beginning.

    And then there’s Niall.

    It’s been nagging at him all morning...the feeling that he can’t quite place himself in Zayn’s life. He knows that Zayn fits into his. Zayn has always fit into Niall’s life. But Zayn is in flux, and Niall’s not sure he knows where he stands. Is this--Zayn being here, the two of them together--the beginning of something? Or is it part of the ending?

_That was Winter_ , he thinks. It’s been running round his head since last night. He can’t shake it. Is this Fall? Does Winter come next? Zayn was wrong maybe. Maybe Niall is the dog. Maybe it’s Niall who’s left behind.

    “Hey.” Zayn has come up behind him. His voice is close. Quiet. Niall leans back into him and feels Zayn reach for his wrist. Slow circles. “Come back, babe.”

    “I’m alright. I just...” He breathes in. Out. “Theo’s going back home in a couple days.”

    “Yeah I know.”

    “And I’m leaving for LA...”

    “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

    Niall isn’t sure what to say. What does that even mean? Zayn’s already gone. He’s already left, but now he’s here. He like the realest thing Niall’s ever felt and he’s like a ghost. He’s both things at the same time.

    “Yeah. Ok.”

    They spend most of the day outside in the back garden, lying in the grass and playing games and letting Theo perform for them, somersaulting and laughing and beaming at them when they reward him with enthusiastic applause. They play hide and seek and peekaboo and Theo demands to be sat in Obama’s lap. They take photos and send them to Denise and Greg and then they just lie there for a while, watching the clouds overhead and tapping at their respective phones, Niall’s head resting on Zayn’s chest and Theo using Niall’s leg as a pillow. It’s nice. Quiet and relaxed and immediate. It’s like when he’s with Zayn—not doing anything, just existing in a space together—he’s occupying the present moment in a way he’s almost never capable of on his own. He feels at ease. Like he’s where he’s meant to be. It’s a bit like being on stage, without all the noise and lights and the thousands of people. Just Zayn.

    “I want to make us dinner.”

    Zayn makes a humming noise, then he laughs softly at something on his phone.

    “I’ll make fajitas or something, yeah?”

    He feels Zayn’s hand on his head, a fleeting touch.

    “Yeah. Sounds good.”

    “I’ll pick up more of those fruit packets for Theo. He’s nearly out.”

    “Mmm hmm.”

    Niall rolls over and sits up, then kneels next to Zayn and watches him. He’s using one arm as a pillow and holding his phone in his free hand. He sets it down on his chest when Niall moves. They just look at each other for a moment, and it doesn’t feel strange or like they need to say anything. Niall doesn’t feel compelled to fill the air between them. He smiles, and then he leans down and kisses Zayn on the lips, just once.

    “I’ll be back in a jiff.”

 

____

 

    He sees the first tweet as he’s getting in the car. It’s not like he’s creeping, it’s just that he already had all their pages open and Zayn’s is what comes up when he fumbles with his phone as he’s trying to get it on the charger in the car.

    It’s a retweet of a photo. One of those photo booth selfies off a Mac. Zayn and Shahid. It’s nothing new. It’s a thing they do all the time. A friend thing. It’s the caption that gets him.

_Replace this._

    Niall feels something stir in his middle. He feels sick. Or like he’s being taunted. He understands that this isn’t about him. That it’s not meant for him (is it? Is it meant for him? What has Zayn told them?) but it gets under his skin. He thinks of Liam and Harry. Wonders if they’re checking twitter. Thinks of Louis. God... _Louis_. What time is it in LA?

    He chucks his phone at the passenger seat and pulls out of the gate.

____ 

 

    “Um...sir? There’s one more prompt there. If you just...”

    “Hmm?” He’s been staring at his phone again. It’s a fucking mess. He should text Louis. Tell him to stop. Tell him to let it go. But that’s not what Niall does, that’s not his job. He doesn’t want to get in the middle of this. It’s like fucking secondary school, honestly. Bullshit kids’ stuff.

    He hits a button and accepts the charges and grabs the bag of groceries. Walks out. No one bothers him today, which is a blessing. He tries to mix it up when he goes out, shopping at different stores, but sometimes it’s difficult. It can be discouraging, the way they always seem to find him. Like they’ve got some kind of sixth sense. He doesn’t think he could handle that today. Not right now.

    He sets the bag in the back seat and refreshes one more time. Naughty Boy has taken a shot at Louis’ voice.

    “Fuck,” he hisses. He feels sick. He feels angry. What the fuck is Zayn thinking, hanging out with this prick? He starts the car.

    He doesn’t see the last bit until he arrives back at home, just as he’s parking and gathering his things.

____

 

    Zayn is in the kitchen when he comes inside.

    “His nappy is a mess again, and I’ve saved it for you, because I’m very thoughtful like that.” He moves over to Niall as he comes in and goes for a kiss on the cheek, but Niall brushes him off and sets about putting things away. Focuses on the task at hand. Chicken in the fridge. Spices on the worktop. Fruit packets in the press. He can hear that he’s making a racket, letting things fall carelessly into place and being a little too rough. The fluttering in his middle is gone. It’s just...cold now. Heavy. Like a block of ice.

    He can sense Zayn behind him, observing quietly. He doesn’t turn. He grabs a cloth and wipes at the worktop. He doesn’t want to look at Zayn. He doesn’t want to talk. He feels like he might explode.

    “Niall?”

    He keeps wiping, his jaw feels tight.

    “Niall are you ok? Did something happen?“

    He doesn’t want to come apart right now. He wants Zayn to go. Wants him to miraculously disappear into the ether. But that doesn’t happen. Niall turns. He looks Zayn in the eye and Zayn sees his face and he sighs, like he understands what’s coming.

    “Theo, I’m going to put you in your cot for a bit, alright? Will you be good for me?”

    “Goot.”

    “Yeah, bub. Not for long.”

    He walks out of the kitchen and disappears into the hallway. Niall doesn’t move. He just stands there, rigid and cold and utterly lost. He doesn’t know what he feels. He’s at sea.

    Zayn comes back. He approaches Niall like he would a spooked horse, like he’s afraid Niall will bolt or lash out. He reaches for Niall’s hand, for his wrist, and Niall pulls away.

    “What the fuck are you thinking?”

    Zayn drops his hand. He folds his arms over his chest. He looks defensive. Guarded.

    “It’s not a big deal, Niall. It’s between me and Louis.”

    “BETW—“ He doesn’t want to yell. He doesn’t want to argue while Theo’s here. “It’s not between the two of you, Zayn! It’s all of us. It’s fucking TWITTER for god’s sake. It’s the whole fucking world. It’s the fans.”

    Zayn throws up his hands.

    “What the fuck am I supposed to do, Niall? He won’t talk to me. He’s just poking and prodding at the space around me, at the people I care about.”

    Niall makes a noise. It feels petty and sharp and he sees it in Zayn’s face, in the way his jaw tightens, like he’s steeling himself.

    “At my _friends_. At me. And I’m supposed to just sit there and ignore him?”

    Niall wants to scream. He wants to cry.

    “YES. Yes, Zayn. That is exactly what you’re meant to do! Didn’t they teach you that in bloody primary school? Ignore it! Or keep it to yourself! Reach out to him! Ask him to talk! Don’t subject the whole world to your bullshit!”

    “You think I haven’t tried that? He’s been a massive prick, Niall. It’s fucking Louis, for god’s sake. He’s like the definition of stubborn.”

    “You _hurt_ him, Zayn. You hurt all of us.” He hears his voice crack. He doesn’t want to cry about this. Not right now. “You _left_. Are we not meant to be angry? Is that not allowed?”

    “Am I not allowed to be hurt? Am I not allowed any grievances? Fucking ignore it?” He shakes his head, his jaw set like he’s holding something in. “You would. You would say that, wouldn’t you? Fuck...”

    Niall feels like he’s been struck. His voice goes quiet. Tight.

    “What’s that supposed to mean?”

    Zayn breathes out, hard, and then it’s like he deflates a little. Collapses into himself. He looks tired. Sad. Bitter.

    “You know what it means.”

    Niall doesn’t say anything, he just shakes his head.

    “Niall, I don’t want to fight.”

    “I don’t want to fight either, Zayn, but I just don’t fucking understand.” His voice sounds frantic, reedy. A little desperate. He feels like he’s choking on his own words. “I don’t understand why you left. We’re your best friends. We fucking _love_ you. So much. _I_ love you. And you just threw that all away in a heartbeat to go hang around with someone who doesn’t really _care_. Who doesn’t _know_ you the way we do!”

    He regrets it the instant it comes out of his mouth. He wants to take it back. He’s crossed a line, he can see it in Zayn’s face. The way he looks like he’s finished. Like Niall disgusts him.

    “Wow. Ok.”

    “I just mean—“

    “I know what you meant. It was pretty bloody clear.”

    “Zayn—“

    “Nah, it’s good, Niall.” His voice is flat. Cold. “It’s great. What would I do without you to sort it all out for me? To let me in on who really gives a shit? Thank you. That’s fucking aces. Good show.”

    “I didn’t mean that.”

    “I’m sure you didn’t.” He’s turning now, walking out of the kitchen and collecting his things. Is he leaving? Niall feels his stomach turn. The bird in his chest is everywhere at once, beating at his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

    “You don’t have to leave.”

    Zayn tugs his jacket on.

    “Yeah. I think I do.” He walks to the front hall and disappears. The door opens. The door slams. Niall is left alone.

    He just stands there for a moment, his breath ragged. His mind is spinning. Then he hears Theo calling out. He heads for the bedroom and glances down at the floor as he passes, just to see. Just to make sure.

    The bag is gone.

 

* * *

 

    “It’s very late there.”

    “Yeah I know. Thank you.”

    “I’ve just made a smoothie. It’s like...really proper hot today.”

    “It’s always hot there. I don’t know how you stand it.”

    “I stand it with a tremendous amount of grace and equanimity. Is Theo still there? Can I see him?”

    “He’s sleepin’. Don’t want to wake him.”

    “Christ, you couldn’t’ve rung me before he went down? What sort of friend are you?”

    Niall just gives him a “ _what can you do_ ” shrug and doesn’t say anything more. Harry frowns.

    “Okay.” His voice has changed. Softened. “Soooo...you’ll be here in a couple days.”

    “Yeah.”

    “And you’re calling me now.”

    Niall looks left and right. Takes a drink of his beer.

    “Yeah I just...Wanted to talk or whatever.”

    Harry stops moving. He’s been in and out of the frame since he picked up, fiddling with things in his kitchen, carrying Niall through the house. He sits on a lounge chair and sets the computer down across from him.

    “What’s going on, Niall?”

    Niall looks down at his lap. Fiddles with the hole in the knee of his jeans. He’s not sure. He’s not sure what to say, what he wants from Harry.

    “I just wanted to say hi.”

    “Okay...” Harry is speaking slowly. Carefully. “And what do you _need_?”

    Niall bites at a nail and curls his lip. He’s not sure.

    “Just...did we fuck up?”

    Harry considers for a moment, as if Niall’s question isn’t the vaguest thing on earth. As if he could possibly know what Niall means.

    “Yeah, I expect we did.” He takes a drink of his smoothie and smiles. “Loads. I think we fucked up loads. But hey,” He tilts his glass at the screen. “Live and learn, yeah?”

    “Yeah. I just...” he swallows. Tries to parse out what he’s feeling. “I’ve been really like...angry? And I think I didn’t have any place to put that, nowhere that felt right, so I just like...tucked it away.”

    Harry nods. Niall runs his hands over his face. He wonders if he looks tired. Or like he’s been crying.

    “I thought you did it wrong, you know? It seemed so pointless, calling him. All the begging and whinging. But at least it was like...as least you let it out. Put it somewhere.”

    Harry grimaces, like he’s remembering. It must be hard for him to think of, how taken apart he was by the whole thing. How bare it made him. Niall wonders if he’s really had time to put himself together again. But maybe that’s what LA is for. For running away and licking your wounds. Harry looks up and peers at Niall through the screen.

    “Have you spoken to him?”

    Niall doesn’t meet his gaze.

    “Yeah I just...”

    He waits for Harry to fill the empty space, but Harry is quiet. He doesn’t say a thing.

    “I think I waited too long to say anything and then by the time it came out it was all twisted and gross and wrong.”

    Harry nods. Then he smiles. Like everything's not falling apart. Like it's all going to plan.

    “It’ll be okay, Niall. Listen. The thing is that we’re stuck with each other. Like for life. For better or worse.”

    Niall nods. It feels half-hearted. He wants to know that’s the case. He wants to feel the truth of it.

    “So I can run to LA and Louis can stay up all night and lash out at the entire world and you can sit quietly and be very Irish until you burst but it will be okay. Eventually. We’ve just got to come to it in our own time, like. In our own ways. Because it’s not the five of us anymore. It’s each of us and it’s Zayn. That’s...a lot to negotiate. A lot to relearn.”

    Niall feels his throat going tight. He nods.

    “Just go easy on yourself, alright? I’ll see you in a couple days.” Harry waves, and the screen goes grey.

    Right then, he thinks. Okay.

    He falls over sideways on the couch and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

     “I can’t believe that tooth came in just when we left. That’s some shit luck, right there.”

    Greg laughs and presses his hands over Theo’s ears, shushing her.

    “Jesus, Denise. You’ve got the mouth of a sailor, we were only gone a week and a half.”

    Denise covers her mouth and her eyes go wide. Niall laughs.

    “I might’ve put a few new cuss words in there meself. I’m just not used to having a baby around.”

    Greg sighs, defeated, and lets his hands drop.

    “It’s a lost cause, you know. He’s probably stored them all away already. Gonna use ‘em as soon as we put him in school and embarrass us.”

    Niall watches Theo arranging a pile of peas and corn on his plate, moving the bits about and talking quietly to himself.

    “He’s like a sponge though. Learns real quick. It’s mental to watch.”

    Denise is looking over at him in a funny way. Niall doesn’t like it. He focuses on eating his dinner. The waiter appears and refills their water glasses, then disappears. Silent and graceful. Greg shakes his head.

    “The service when we go out with you. It’s a whole other thing. You can’t even begin to—“

    “Are you thinking about it, then?”

    “Hmm?” Niall looks up, confused. Denise has the eyes of a predator. Like she’s on the hunt.

    “Are you thinking about having a baby? Is that why you wanted to watch him?”

    Greg nearly chokes on his pasta.

    “He’s a _kid_ , babe. Of course he’s not—“

    Niall shrugs.

    “Dunno.”

    Denise looks at Greg pointedly, like this is something they've talked about. Like she's won something. Niall tilts his head noncommittally.

    “It’s nice, you know? I mean...not now. I’ve not got the time, obviously. But like...someday.”

    “On your own?”

    Niall presses a hand to his stomach. He clears his throat and sips his water.

    “No...I’d like...I’d have to find the right person.”

    Greg nods, acquiescing. He reaches over and cleans a bit of sauce off Theo’s face.

    “You’d do alright. It’s real rare, like. It’s just the craziest thing.”

 

    They head out to the car park together and move bags from one vehicle to the other, extricate the car seat and get Theo situated back in his parents’ car. Niall leans in and kisses him on the forehead and says goodnight and Theo grabs onto his hair and his ears and presses his head against Niall’s and yeah, Niall is going to miss him. He’s going to miss having him around. Having him to take care of.

____

    He drives slowly. He’s not looking forward to getting home, to walking into his house and finding it dark and empty. To picking up the detritus leftover from Theo’s visit. Orphaned bits of biscuit and tiny stray socks. It’s dark when he arrives and he lets himself in quietly, like he’ll wake someone if he makes too much noise. Like he’ll disturb some sort of equilibrium.

    The desk lamp is on when he comes in, casting a yellow glow across the living room, and Zayn is sitting on the couch. Niall feels like the world is tilting on its axis. He feels a thousand things at once. Terror and uncertainty and shame and anger and relief. He doesn’t know what to say.

    “Theo has gone already.”

    Zayn is leaning his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor.

    “Yeah, I gathered.”

    Niall drops his jacket on the the chair. He hesitates, then gives in. Sits on the couch next to Zayn.

    “I didn’t think you were coming back.” He runs a hand over his brow and shuts his eyes tightly. “I hoped, but...” He breathes in deeply. “I’m really sorry.”

    Zayn makes a noise like he’s about to say something but Niall shushes him.

    “No, just let me—I just need you to know that I understand. That it was terrible, what I said. I’d just...been holding so much inside, thinking that was the right thing to do. To spare everyone. To keep meself to meself. But I guess it just sort of...built up inside me and it came out all wrong. It was selfish and desperate and just...shitty. It was shitty.”

    “You were hurting.”

    Niall curls his lip.

    “That’s not an excuse.”

    “Yeah, it is.” He sounds so tired, like he’s not slept. “I guess I thought that it would be better, you know? If I made a clean break? Just left. Didn’t draw it out or sit you all down and let you poke and prod at my motivations. I thought I was sparing you. I thought it would be like pulling off a plaster, you know? Quick. Less painful. But that was stupid. You aren’t a plaster. You’re like...an appendage. It’s like trying to take off my own arm or something.”

    Niall laughs softly. He knows. He knows exactly what Zayn means. But he doesn’t say anything. He lets Zayn speak.

    “I guess I’m getting it now. That like...sometimes you think you’re protecting the people you love...shielding them from something ugly. But really you’re just hurting them in a different way? I never wanted that. I never wanted to hurt any of you. Least of all you. I just...I just want to make you happy. I didn’t want this.”

    “We fucked up.”

    “Yeah.”

    “We all fucked up.”

    “I want to fix it though. I still...I feel like I’ve got all this space now. Everything opened up in front of me and it’s blowing my mind, making me like...giddy. But it’s terrifying too. For the first time I get to make my own choices, you know? I get to decide where I go and what I do and who I hold close and who I push away and I think I’m figuring it out. I’ve got great people around me. People who give a shit, you know? I know you don’t see it but Shahid is a good friend. He worries about me. He’s just...” Zayn shakes his head, then he laughs, like he can’t believe this is his real life. “He’s a Louis, you know?”

    It makes so much sense Niall wants to smack himself in the head. Loyal, protective, stubborn, snarky Louis. Vicious Louis. Louis who cares way too much. Who might burn the world down for his friends. Niall supposes there’s a certain sort of person for everyone. Zayn needs a Louis. Niall needs a Zayn. Louis needs a Harry, and on and on. They’ve become so intertwined, so a part of each other, it makes sense that they would gravitate toward other people with similar traits. They’ve grown around each other, filled the negative space in each other’s lives.

    “I get it. I get why you need him.”

    “I need you, too, Niall.”

    It hits deep. The way he says it. Soft and uncertain and small. Niall nods his head.

    “It’s so weird it’s like...you left and then you came back, and it’s like I’m figuring out who you are to me all over again. Where you fit. And it’s...not what I expected. I never thought--”

    “You _never_ thought?”

    Niall looks over at him, then away. He feels himself blushing.

    “I mean. I imagined. I didn’t think.”

    “Ha.”

    “Shut up.”

    “Nah. No, it’s good. I imagined. A lot. Like in the beginning, when we would...” He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to. “I just gathered you weren’t interested. Not really. You always sort of...shut it down I guess. I thought it meant...”

    “Yeah.” Niall remembers how it was back then. The two of them, dancing up to the edge of a breach, Niall always the one who balked.

    “I get it now I think. I mean...it makes sense. It’s ok. You’re right, you know. It’s like...you’re so fucking familiar. Like coming home? But you feel like a brand new thing. Like I’m just finally seeing you. Proper, like.”

    Niall feels himself unspooling. Feels the tension of the past couple weeks—the past four years, maybe—draining out of him. He feels acknowledged. Seen. He feels loved.

    Zayn taps him on the back of the hand, lightly.

    “So...?”

    Niall nods, and then turns, and then kisses him. He tries to put everything into it. All the relief and the love and the terror and the excitement he’s feeling. All the uncertainty and every ounce of how absolutely certain he is. He pulls back.

    “So.”

    Zayn is smiling. He looks a little flushed. A little relieved.  _Spring again_ , Niall thinks. That fucking book. It’s etched in his mind for good maybe. A part of him. He laughs and Zayn looks confused.

    “So we’ll just like...start over then.”

    “Yeah...” Zayn agrees, “we’ll start over.”

    Niall holds out his hand.

    “Hi. I’m Niall.”

    Zayn looks baffled for a moment, then seems to say fuck it and takes Niall’s hand in his. Shakes it firmly.

    “I’m Zayn. Vas happenin’?”

    Niall groans a little and rolls his eyes, but he plays along.

    “Nothin’ much. Just chillin'. Waitin’ for a friend...” Zayn still has his hand. He’s not letting go. He’s just holding it now and smiling. He’s terrible at this game, honestly. “...but you’ll do for now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god. This fic was a whirlwind. I bit this off in a time of great stress and that caused a fair bit of anxiety, which is good because this is a story ABOUT anxiety and how we cope with feelings that are too big to look at straight on.  
> I had so much help. Thank you to everyone in the LPE, y'all are my team of experts. Thank you to Darren for riding shiny and chrome for 8 hours straight on this thing and Gil for going over it and being a constant voice of support and both of you being kind and understanding when I shot your suggestions down like tin cans off a wooden fence. Thank you to Elaine for the THOROUGH brit/irish-pick. YOU ARE AMAZING. All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone and I'm sure there are plenty. Super special thanks to Ray and their shaky warrior tag for being a source of great inspiration. <3  
> Thank you forever and always to my best friend Jamie, who's been there helping me comprehend my own feelings and my own neuroses and my own ace-ness for many years. She's all over this fic and all over everything I write. That's just how it is.


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